COLUMBIA  LIBRARIES  OFFSITE 

AVERY  FINE  ARTS  RESTRICTED 


AR01406019 


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THE  GREAT  EMPIRE  CITY; 


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HIGH  AND  LOW  LIFE  1  NEW  YORK. 


A  MIRROR  Of  the:  gre:at  me:tropous. 


PUBLISHED  FOR  THE  TRADE. 


OOpyrightfU  iHt  ?,  S ^^J^^    by  F.  M.LrpTox. 


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Ex  ICtbrts 


SEYMOUR    DURST 


-#  '  7(T/-^  nf^-iMc    ^Sm/^ertus-m.  cy  af  MtrtJtatans 


When  you  leave,  please  leave  this  book 

Because  it  has  been  said 
"Sver'thing  comes  t'  him  who  waits 

£y:cept  a  loaned  book." 


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AvF.RY  Architectural  and  Fine  Arts  Library 
Gil  T  OF  Seymour  B.  Durst  Old  York  Library 


on. 


HIGH    AlTD    Z.O'TO'    LIFE    ZIT    ITEVT    VORZI. 


NEW  YORK  CITY. 

The  inetropolia  of  the  New  World  has  an  area 
ot  about  twenty-seven  thousand  acres,  and  a 
population  of  probably  more  than  a  million  and 
a  qnarter.  It  is  divided  into  twentv-four  wards. 
Of  the  total  foreign  commerce  o"f  the  United 
States,  about  sixty  per  cent,  passes  through  the 
port  of  New  York,  in  round  numbers  to  about  the 
value  of  four  hundred  million  out  of  a  total  of 
.SIX  hundred  million  dollars  per  annum.  The 
indications  are  that  immigrants  to  the  number  of 
approaching  half  a  million  will  land  in  the  city 
during  the  present  year.  lu  domestic  trade  and 
manufactures,  while  the  value  of  its  retail  trade 
is  unascertainable,  that  of  the  total  product  of 
Its  manufactures  per  annum  approximates  lour 
hundred  million  of  dollars,  more  or  less.  The 
value  of  the  real  and  personal  property  ofthe 
_  city  for  the  purposes  of  taxation  is  about  a  bil- 
lion and  a  quarter  of  dollars.  New  York  is  the 
i?rand  center  of  the  banking  and  insurance  buai- 
ariss  of  the  United  States.  Four  million  dollars 
are  spent  annually  m  support  of  those  educa- 
tional institutions  of  the  city  which  are  incorpor- 
ated by  the  State,  or  make  report  to  constituted 
authorities.  Besides  these  are  many  other  in- 
stitutions which  aid  culture,  including  the  Coop- 
er Institute,  twenty-threo  libraries  of  reference 
^\.\  The  principal  societies  for  the  promotion 
ofthe  fine  arts  are  the  National  Academy  of  De- 
sign the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  the  Art 
Students  League,  and  the  Studio  Art  Building 
Association.  There  are  nearly  five  hundred 
newspapers  and  periodicals  published  in  New 
York  and  about  as  manv  places  of  religious 
worship,  of  which  the  largest  number  belong  to 
the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church.  The  charities 
of  IN  ew  York  are  munificent,  receiving  and  dis- 
pensing m  the  neighborhood  of  three  million 
dollars  yearly.  While  New  York,  a  compara- 
tively young  city,  does  not  possess  the  architect- 
ural majesty  of  the  older  great  ciHes  of  the 
T^orld,  in  the  point  of  its  domestic  architecture  it 
13  prob&bly  second  to  none,  thougU  the  want  of 


THE  NEW  YORK  AND  BROOKLYN  BRIDGE. 

variety  in  the  style  in  which  its  houses  are  built 
is  to  be  regretted.  Their  convenience  and  ap- 
pointments are  very  superior.  The  finest  and 
most  beautiful  public  building  is  the  City  Hall, 
which  was  finished  in  1803.  St.  Paul's  Church 
is  very  notably  fine  architecturally.  Trinity 
Church,  also  down  town,  is  an  imposing  struc- 
ture. The  new  post-office  building,  the  building 
of  the  Western  Union  Telegraph  Company,  and 
that  of  the  Tribune  newspaper  are,  perhaps,  the 
most  remarkable  structures  in  the  southern  or 
down-towu  portion  of  the  city.  Up-town  are 
many  magnificent  hotels  and  club-rooms,  and  the 
building  known  as  the  Lennox  Library,  which  is 
situated  on  Fifth  Avenue  and  commands  a  flne 
view  of  Central  Park.  More  than  a  thousand 
acres  of  the  area  of  the  city  are  laid  out  as  parks, 
of  which  the  Central  Park  is  the  largest  and  the 
most  interesting.  It  covers  eight  hundred  and 
sixtv-two  acres,  and  has  nice  entrances.  The 
park  is  laid  out  in  walks,  drives,  lakes,  avenues, 
terraces,  and  buildings,  with  consummate  skill, 
and  is  regarded  with  great  pride  by  the  citizens. 
While  the  streets  of  New  York  are,  as  a  whole, 
badly  paved  and  not  so  well  kept  as  they  ought 
to  be,  Broadway  and  Fifth  Avenue  are  among  the 
finest  thoroughfares  in  the  world.  Its  watei-- 
works  are  inadequate  to  the  population,  and 
steps  have  been  taken  in  the  direction  of  im- 
provement. The  meanness  and  inadequacy  of 
the  public  markets  have  been  modified  to  a  de- 
gree by  the  recent  erection  of  the  new  structure 
at  the  foot  of  Fulton  Street,  East  Eiver,  which  is 
regarded  as  a  model  market  building.  New 
Amsterdam,  founded  in  1614  by  the  Dutch,  was 
the  origin  of  New  York.  In  1664  it  feU  into  the 
hands  of  the  English,  and  was  named  New  York, 
in  honor  of  the  brother  of  King  Charles  11  of 
England— James,  Duke  of  York— who  afterward 
became  King  James  II.  The  Dutch  recaptured 
it  in  1673,  and  changed  its  name  to  New  Orange. 
One  year  afterward  it  was  restored  to  the  Eng- 
lish by  treaty  and  its  English  name  was  resumed. 
During  the  War  of  Independence  it  was  taken 
by  the  A.merican  army,  who  left  it  after  the  dis- 


astrous battle  of  Long  Island.  After  the  peace 
of  1783  the  British  evacuated  it,  as  a  matter  of 
course. 

In  1789  George  Washington  was  inaugurated 
in  New  York,  the  first  President  of  the  United 
States.  A  steam  ferry  was  introduced  between 
New  York  and  Jersey  City  in  1812.  In  1825  the 
city  was  first  lighted  with  gas.  The  visitation  of 
cholera  la  1832  was  succeeded  by  the  great  fire 
of  1835,  which  destroyed  twenty  million  dollars' 
worth  of  property.  In  1842  the  Croton  Aqueduct 
was  completed.  The  riots  of  1863  were  conse- 
quent upon  the  United  States  authorities  en- 
deavoring to  enforce  the  draft.  New  York  fur- 
nished in  all  1,161,382  to  the  Government  during 
the  Civil  War.  Biota  in  1871  and  the  panic  of 
1873  are  among  recent  events  of  importance. 
The  first  was  occasioned  by  an  attack  of  Catholic 
upon  Protestant  Irishmen,  who  were  peacefully 
celebrating  the  anniversary  of  the  battle  of  the 
Boyne.  At  the  present  time  New  York  is  mak- 
ing rapid  progress  in  wealth  and  population. 
At  the  census  of  1880  the  population  was  found 
to  be  1,206,209,  of  whom  only  727,629  were  native 
born 


THE  NEW  YOEK  AND  BROOKLYN  BRIDGE. 


The  completion  of  the  grandest  piece  of  bridge 
engineering  the  world  has  yet  seen  necessarily 
attracted  attention,  not  only  in  the  immediate  vi- 
cinity of  the  work,  but  throughout  the  civilized 
world;  not  only  from  curious  sight-seers,  but 
from  those  who  labor  for  the  advancement  of 
their  fellows,  and  rejoice  in  the  success  of  a  stu- 
pendous undertaking. 

On  the  16th  of  April,  1867,  the  Legislature  ol 
New  York  passed  an  act  incorporating  the  New 
York  Bridge  Company,  lor  the  purpose  ot  build- 
ing a  bridge  over  the  East  Kiver  between  the 
cities  of  New  Y'ork  and  Brooklyn.  On  the  23d  of 
the  following  May,  John  A.  Roebling  was  ap- 
pointed chief  engineer,  and  toward  the  close  of 
the  same  year  made  his  report,  discussing  a( 


THK   GREAT   EMPIRE   CiTY. 


•«ome  length  the  three  routes,  and  the  practica- 
bility of  building  suspended  bridges  ol  long 
span.  The  charter  fixed  the  Brooklyn  terminus 
at  the  junction  of  Main  and  Fulton  streets,  but 
allowed  the  New  York  terminus  to  be  at  or  be- 

■   low  Chatham  Square,  but  not  south  of  the  junc- 

I  tion  of  Chatham  and  Nassau  streets.  Consider- 
ing the  value  of  the  property  to  be  condemned, 
the  grades,  the  drtference  in  the  cost,  and  the 

'  fact  that  City  Hall  Park  would  remain  the  center 
of  travel  for  many  years,  it  was  thought  best  to 
build  on  the  park  line.  During  the  summer  of 
1869,  a  detailed  survey  of  the  route  was  made, 
and  the  Brooklyn  tower  located.  It  was  while 
engaged  in  this  work  that  Mr.  Roebling  met 
with  a  most  serious  accident.  His  right  foot 
was  crushed  by  the  shock  of  a  ferry-boat  against 
the  fender  rack  of  spring  piles  on  which  he  was 
standing.  Lockjaw  set  in,  and  after  siKteen  days 
of  extreme  suffering  terminated  in  his  death. 
In  August  of  the  same  year  his  so  ,  Washington 
A.  Roebling,  was  appointed  chief  engineer. 

The  plan  of  the  bridge  was  approved  by  the 
Secretary  of  War,  and  under  date  of  June  21, 
1869,  the  chief  of  engineers  wrote  to  the  com- 
pany stating  that  under  no  conditions  must  the 
center  of  the  span  be  less  than  135  feet  above 
mean  high  water;  no  portion  of  the  tower  foun-. 
dations  above  the  river  bed  must  project  beyond 
the  pier  lines,  and  no  guys  must  ever  be  at- 
tached to  the  mam  span 
which  will  he  below  the 
bottom  chords  of  the 
bridge. 

Au  act  was  passed 
June  5,  1874,  changing 
the  name  to  that  of  the 
New  York  and  Brooklyn 
Bridge,  and  making  it  a 
public  work  to  be  con- 
structed by  the  two 
citiee,  Brooklyn  paying 
two-thirde  of  the  cost, 
and  New  York  one-third. 
Taken  as  a  whole,  the 
bridge  consists  of  the 
approaches,  one  at  each 
terminus;  station  build- 
mgs  at  the  extreme  ends; 
au  anchorage  at  the  end 
of  each  approacli,  to 
which  the  fxjur  cables 
are  fastened;  two  towers 
over  which  the  cables 
pass.  To  the  cables  are 
secured  ropes  on  which 
haug  sis  systems  of  lon- 
gitudinal trusses,  con- 
nected transversely  by 
floor  beams,  diyiding  the 
width  of  the  bridge  into 
two  roadways,  two  car- 
wavs,  and  one  prome- 
nacle. 

Work  was  commenced 
on  the  foundation  of  the 
Brooklyn  tower  ou  Jan- 
uary 3,  1870.  BoringH, 
made  previously,  show- 
ed gneiss  rock  at  a 
depth  of  ninety-six  feet 
below  high  water,  above 
which  were  layers  of 

hardpan  and  trap  bowlde       __ 

and  sand.  This  was  considered  compact  enough 
to  form  a  satisfactory  foundation  without  going 
more  than  forty-five  or  fifty  feet  below  the  sur- 
face of  the  water.  Timber  immersed  in  salt  wa- 
ter is,  practically,  imperishable,  and  if  placed 
below  the  bottom  of  the  river  will  be  out  of^  reach 
of  sea  worms.  It  was  therefore  decided,  in  or- 
der to  secure  a  bed   of  uniform  character,  to 

,  build  a  solid  timber  fcmndation,  having  strength 
Butficient  to  act  as  a  beam,  and  weight  to  insure 

.  even  settling.  The  magnitude  and  importance 
of  this  feature  in  the  great  work  becomeh  appar- 
ent when  it  18  known  that  it  would  bo  called 

.  upon  to  susta^  a  dead  weight  of  some  eighty 
thousand  tons. 
The  Caisson  was  an  immense  box  having  a 

J  roof  and  sides,  but  no  bottom,  so  that  when  it 
was  placed  over  the  site  and  sunk,  the  water 
would  not  rise  in  the  interior  beyond  the  edges, 
thus  forming  an  air  chamber  in  which  the  men 
were  free  to  work.  The  caisson  was  102  feet 
wide,  168  feet  long,  the  height  of  the  air  cham- 
ber being  9  1-2  feet.  A  section  through  the 
Bides  formed  a  V,  the  inner  slope  of  which  had 
»n  angle  of  45  degrees,  and  the  outside  of  all  the 
walls  had  a  batter  of  1  in  10.  The  walls  sloped 
down  to  an  edge  or  shoe,  formed  by  a  semi-cir- 
cular casting,  protected  by  boiler  plate  extend- 
iMf!  three  feet  up  the  sides.  The  tmibers  form- 
»g  the  Y  were  held  togetlier  by  drift  and  screw 


bolts,  and  secured  to  the  roof  by  angle  irons 
and  common  timbers.  The  roof,  upon  which 
the  tower  was  to  rest,  consisted  of  fifteen  courses 
of  Georgia  pine  timbers  twelve  inches  square, 
alternate  courses  being  laid  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, and  the  pieces  bolted  both  horizontally  and 
vertically.  To  make  the  caisson  au'-tight,  the 
seams  were  thoroughly  calked,  and  in  addition 
a  vast  sheet  of  tin  was  inserted  between  the 
fourth  and  fifth  courses  and  down  the  four  sides. 
There  were  shafts  cut  through  the  roof  of  the 
caisson  for  the  passage  of  the  laborers,  and  to 
take  out  the  excavated  material  and  admit  sup- 

Elies.  There  were  two  water  shafts  made  of 
oUer  plate  three-eighths  of  an  inch  thick,  and 
having  a  rectangular  section  seven  feet  by  six 
and  one-half  feet.  These  shafts  were  open"both 
above  and  below,  and  the  lower  end  extended 
below  the  edge  of  the  shoe  for  twenty-one  inches. 
Through  these  shafts  descended  dredges  which 
grappled  and  raised  any  substance  placed  be- 
neath the  opening.  There  were  two  air  shafts, 
three  and  one-half  feet  in  diameter,  having  au 
air-lock  at  each  upper  end,  for  the  use  of  the 
men.  The  supply  shafts  were  cylindrical,  twen- 
ty-four inches  in  diameter,  and  furnished  with 
two  doors,  one  above  and  one  below.  To  admit 
material  the  lower  door  was  closed,  and  the 
tube  filled  with  the  desired  objects,  after  which 
the  upper  door  was  closed.     The  valve  to  the 


embedded  in  clay 


KLEV.\TED    BAILW.W. 

equalizing  pipe  was  then  opened,  and  as  soon  as 
the  air  pressure  in  the  tube  was  equal  to  that  in 
the  chamber,  the  lower  door  was  opened,  when 
the  materials  fell  into  the  chamber.  All  the 
doors  to  the  air-locks,  as  well  as  those  to  the 
shafts,  fitted  closely  and  swung  into  the  cham- 
ber having  the  greater  air  pressure.  Five  mas- 
sive frames  or  walls  divided  the  air  chamber 
of  the  caisson  into  six  compartments.  When 
this  great  box  had  been  finished,  it  was  launched 
and  towed  to  its  future  resting-place. 

Dunng  the  building  of  the  caisson  the  site  of 
the  foundation  had  been  cleared,  and  a  rectan- 
gular space  a  little  larger  than  the  caisson,  and 
having  a  depth  of  water  sufticiont  to  float  it,  had 
been  prepared.  On  ilay  1,  1870,  the  caisson 
was  towetl  down,  and  on  the  following  day  was 
warped  into  position.  The  tower  proper  was 
now  commenced  on  the  top  of  this  caisson,  but  it 
was  not  until  three  courses  of  masonry  had  been 
laid  that  the  caisson  was  weighted  sufficiently  to 
rest  firmly  on  the  bottom  and  resist  the  action  of 
the  tides.  Six  air  compressors  had  been  placed 
on  the  surface  for  the  purpose  of  supplying  air 
to  the  air  chamber  of  the  caisson.  The  pressure 
in  this  chamber  was  kept  equal  to  the  hydrostatic 
head,  differences  in  the  materials  passed  through 
making  slight  deviations  from  this  rule  neces- 
sarj'.  The  work  of  excavating  was  carried  on 
from  the  chamber,  all  obstructions  being  re- 
moved irom  under  the  shoes  and  frames.    At 


the  same  time  the  masonry  was  being  laid  on 
top  with  the  aid  of  boom  derricks  and  engines. 
When  bowlders  were  encountered  too  large  for 
easy  handhug,  they  were  pulled  out  of  the  way 
by  hydraulic  jacks,  then  drilled  and  blasted. 
The  blast  produced  no  ill  efifecta  on  the  men,  al- 
though some  trouble  was  anticipated  owing  to 
the  dense  atmosphere. 

Gradually  but  surely  the  caisson  sank  toward 
its  final  resting-place,  while  the  tower  grew 
above  it.  At  the  end  of  five  months  20,000  ^ard& 
of  earth  had  been  removed.  As  the  caisson 
proceeded  downward  the  disproportion  between 
the  load  above  and  the  buoyancy  became  more 
and  more,  and  to  support  tbis  overweight  addi- 
tional shores  were  introduced,  which  rested 
upon  a  block  and  wedges  and  supported  a  cap 
placed  against  the  roof.  When  the  caisson  had 
reached  within  three  feet  of  its  journey's  end,  71 
brick  piers  were  built,  having  bases  averaging 
20  square  feet.  These  had  sti-ength  enough  to 
uphold  the  whole  mass  if  the  air  pressure  should 
from  any  cause  be  removed.  When  the  caisson 
had  reached  a  depth  of  44  1-2  feet  below  mean 
high  tide,  the  operation  of  filhng  the  entire 
chamber  with  concrete  was  begun.  The  con- 
crete consisted  of  one  part  of  Rosendale  cement, 
two  of  sand,  and  three  of  small-sized  gravel. 
Tbe  total  quantity  required,  including  the  brick 
piers,  was  about  4,000  yards. 

The  danger  from  fire 
in  an  atmosphere  of 
compressed  air  is  very 
great,  and  the  difficulty 
of  quickly  subduing  it 
makes  every  known  pre- 
caution necessar}-.  At 
a  pressure  of  tweiity-hve 
pounds  to  the  square 
luch,  the  flame  ol  a  can- 
dle wUl  return  after  hav- 
ing been  blown  out.  On 
December  2d  a  tire  was 
discovered  in  the  cais- 
son after  it  had  been  go- 
ing some  hours  and  at- 
tain ed  considerable 
headway.  Streams  of 
water,  steam,  and  car- 
bomc  acid  were  succes- 
sively tried,  but  availed 
nothing.  After  strug- 
gling unsuccessfully  lor 
some  time  the  caisson 
was  flooded,  and  left  so 
for  two  and  a  half  days. 
When  the  air  was  again 
admitted  and  the  water 
expelled,  about  200  bor- 
ings were  made  in  the 
roof  to  ascertam  the  ex- 
tent of  the  fire.  Verti- 
cally it  was  confined  to 
the  third,  fourth,  and 
fifth  courses  of  timber, 
but  laterally  it  extended 
to  points  fifty  feet  apart. 
Holes  were  made  in  the 
roof,  the  charcoal 
scraped  from  e.very 
burnea  stick,  and  the 
holes  filled  with  cement. 
In  order  to  prevent  any 
settling  at  this  point,  a  pier  of  square  blocks  of 
trap  rock  was  built  directly  under  the  space 
burned.  Cleaning  and  filling  the  burned  sec- 
tion occupied  eighteen  carpenters,  working  day 
and  night,  two  mouths,  besides  common  labor. 

The  Brooklyn  caisson,  completed,  contained 
250  toHS  of  iron  and  111,000  cubic  feet  of  timber. 
The  New  York  tower  is  located  in  a  direct  line 
from  the  Brooklvn  one,  perpendicular  to  the 
stream,  and  at  a  distance  of  1,595  1-2  feet.  Bor- 
ings on  the  site  did  not  encounter  rock  before 
reaching  a  depth  of  from  seventy-seven  to  nine- 
ty-two feet  below  high  water,  and  as  extensive 
beds  of  quicksand  rested  on  the  rock,  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  go  to  It  for  a  firm  foundation.  As  this 
caisson  would  ultimately  be  subjected  to  a  much 
greater  pressure  than  the  one  upon  the  other 
side,  the  dimensions  were  made  102  by  172  feet. 
The  roof  was  twenty-two  feet  thick,  surmounted 
by  a  cofler  dam  reaching  to  high  water  mark, 
thus  increasing  the  buovancy  and  lessening  the 
pressure  on  the  frames  during  the  sinking.  The 
air  chamber  was  nine  and  one-half  feet  high, 
and  divided  into  six  compartments.  The  interior 
of  the  chamber  was  lined  with  boiler  iron,  rivet- 
ed together  and  calked.  This  lining  made  the 
chamber  air-tight  and  guarded  against  fire. 
Two  sets  of  double  air-locks  were  built  into  the 
roof  of  the  caisson,  each  being  six  and  one-half 
feet  in  diameter  bv  eight  feet  in  height. 
There  were  four  supply  shafts,  two  of  which 


^1   \ 


1 
J 


THK   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


were  twenty-four  inclies  in  diameter  and  two 
ijveuty-one  inches.  Tlie  caisson  was  sunk  to  a 
<Iepth  of  seventy-eight  feet  iu  a  manner  very 
similar  to  that  pursued  on  the  other  side,  but 
owing  to  the  nature  of  the  material  passed 
through,  sand  pumps  were  introduced,  which 
utilized  the  air  pressure  in  the  chamber  to  force 
the  sand  out  through  tubes.  The  air  chamber 
was  filled  as  in  the  other  case,  except  that  the 
brick  piers  were  deemed  superfluous,  owing 
to  the  greater  strength.  The  New  York  caisson 
contained  180  tons  of  bolts,  200  tons  of  iron  work, 
and  118,000  cubic  feet  of  timber. 

The  tower  is  not  a  eoUd  mass  of  masonry,  but 
consists  of  three  buttressed  shafts,  joined  to- 
grther  up  to  the  roadway  by  four  connecting 
walls.  In  the  Brooklyn  tower  the  course  next 
the  caisson  is  seventeen  feet  thick;  the  thickness 
diminishes  by  oflfsets  until  at  high  water  it  is  but 
ten  and  one-half  feet.  This  forms  two  well 
holes,  which  are  filled  with  concrete  below  water 
line,  but  left  open  up  to  the  roadway.  Spaces 
were  also  left  from  two  feet  above  the  arches  to 
■within  tour  and  one  half  feet  of  the  top  of  the 
tower.  In  one  of  the  wide  shafts  is  a  small  verti- 
cal opening  two  feet  five  in- 
ches by  three  feet,  connect- 
ing with  one  of  these  small 
spaces.  By  means  of  a 
trap  and  iron  ladder  access 
can  always  be  had  to  the 
roof.  Above  the  roadway 
the  tower  consists  of  three 
columns  havmg  an  oblong 
section,  and  united  at  the 
top  by  arches  having  a 
span  of  thirty-nine  and 
three-fourths  inches.  The 
points  of  the  arches  are 
114  1-3  feet  above  the 
L  roadway.  The  arches  are 
X  '  pointed  and  are  formed  by 
the  intersection  of  two  arcs 
of  circles  having  a  radius 
of  forty-eight  and  one-sixth 
feet. 

In  order  to  guard  against 
any  possible  changes  of 
fbrm,  heavy  irons  were  in- 
3erted  in  the  masonry  and 
rods  placed  across  the 
span.  The  masonry  of  the 
towers  below  water  is 
largely  hmestone,  except 
the  lacing  of  the  two  upper 
courses,  which  is  granite. 
The  backing  above  high 
water  to  the  roadway  is 
mostly  granite,  and  all  the 
remainder  of  the  work  is 
granite.  To  raise  the  stones 
from  the  yard  at  the  foot 
of  the  tower  to  the  work, 
engines  driving  d  rums 
■were  used.  About  the 
■drums  was  wound  a  rope 
■which  passed  over  a  pulley 
on  the  top  of  the  completed 
course  of  the  tower.  A 
lewis  having  been  put  iu 
the  stone  to  be  raised,  it 
■was  attached  to  the  rope 
and  hoisted  to  the  top. 
Here  a  car  running  on  rails 
projecting  over  the  edge 
was  run  under,  and  the 
stone  lowered  on  it.  Hav- 
ing reached  the  tower, 
the   derricks  carried  it  to 

ite  destination.  Upon  the  upper  portion  of  the 
work  balance  derricks  were  used  instead  of  the 
boom  derricks. 

The  vertical  dimensions  of  the  towers  are  as 
follows: 

Height  of  roadway  above  mean  high  tide, 
119  1^  feet;  height  of  springing  of  arches  above 
high  tide,  198  feet;  height  of  springing  of  arches 
.ibove  roadway,  seventy- nine  and  one-fourth  feet; 
height  of  ridge  of  roof  stone,  271  1-2  feet.  The 
height  of  the  ridge  of  roof  stone  of  the  Brooklyn 
tower  above  bottom  of  foundation  is  316  feet.  In 
the  New  York  tower  the  height  of  ridge  of  roof 
13  349  1-2  feet.  A  balustrade  around  the  towers 
will  increase  the  height  to  276  feet  above  tide. 

The  following  are  some  of  the  horizontal  meas- 
urements: At  the  top  of  the  caisson  the  Brooklyn 
tower  is  151  by  forty-nine  feet  and  the  New 
York  towor  is  157  by  seventy-sefen  feet;  at  high 
water  the  Brooklyn  tower  "is  fifty-seven  Ijy  141 
feet,  and  the  other  fifty-nine  by  141  feet. 

At  these  points  the  towers  have  a  soUd  section. 
At  the  base  of  the  three  shafts,  or  roadway,  the 
Brooklyn  tower  is  forty-five  by  131  feet;  at  the 
.^prtnging  of  the  arches,  forty-two  and  one-half 


by  128  1-2  feet;  at  the  base  of  the  upper  cornice 
it  IS  forty  by  126  feet.  The  openings  m  the  tow- 
ers are  thirty-three  and  three-fourths  feet  wide. 
Above  high  water  the  New  York  tower  differs 
from  the  other  by  an  increase  of  three  feet  in 
thickness  in  the  direction  of  the  axis  of  the 
bridge.  The  total  weight  of  the  Brooklyn  tower, 
masonry  and  timber,  is  93,079  tons.  The  great- 
est pressure  at  any  point  in  the  tower  masonry 
will  be  at  the  base  ot  the  central  shaft  above  the 
roadway;  this  will  be  about  twenty-six  tons  to 
the  squarefoot,  or  361  pounds  per  square  inch. 

At  a  distance  of  930  feet  from  each  tower  is 
an  anchorage  designed  merely  to  resist  the  pull 
of  the  cables  which  pass  over  the  towers.  These 
rest  on  timber  foundations,  the  spaces  between 
the  sticks  being  filled  with  concrete.  The  ma- 
sonry of  the  Brooklyn  anchorage  is  four  feet 
above  tide,  while  the  other  is  at  high  tide  level. 
The  Brooklyn  foundation  is  119  1-3  bv  132  feet. 
New  York  foundation,  119  1-3  by  i;«  teet.  The 
masonry  is  similar.  The  work  is  solid  with  the 
exception  of  two  openings,  or  tunnels,  iu  the 
river  side,  which  are  arched  by  semicircular 
arches  of  twenty-three  feet  span,  springing  at 


BROADWAY. 

from  sixty-two  to  sixty-six  feet  above  hde.  The 
anchorages  are  about  ninety  feet  high  above  tide 
level.  They  are  built  of  hmestone  and  granite. 
The  Brooklyn  anchorage  contains  27,113  cubic 
yards  of  masonry;  the  New  York,  28,803  cubic 
yards. 

In  the  end  of  each  anchorage  farthest  from 
the  towers  are  four  anchor  plates  (one  for  each 
end  of  ea(^  cable),  which  are  held  down  by  the 
dead  weight  of  masonry  piled  upon  them,  and 
to  which  the  cables  are  attached.  The  anchor- 
plates  in  the  Brooklyn  anchorage  are  placed 
8  feet  above  tide,  and  those  in  New  Y'ork  6  feet. 
These  plates  are  cast-iron,  2  1-2  feet  thick  at 
the  center,  and  measure  16  1-2  by  17  1-2  feet  on 
the  surface.  In  form  they  much  resemble  an 
enormous  wheel,  having  a  massive  hub  and  six- 
teen spokes,  but  no  r;m.  Each  plate  weighs 
about  twenty-three  tons.  The  cables  enter  the 
comer  of  the  anchorage  diagonally  opposite  the 

Elates,  and  after  traversing  a  short  distance 
orizontally,  make  a  curve  of  about  ninety  de- 
grees to  the  plates.  The  wires  composing  the 
cable  do  not  come  much  beyond  the  comer  of 
the  tower,  the  connection  between  them  and  the 


plates  being  made  by  anchor  bars.  These  barx 
start  in  double  sets  from  each  plate,  one  curviug 
over  the  other,  and  are  vertical  for  a  distance  of 
about  twenty-five  feet,  wlien  they  curve  about 
ninety  degrees  on  a  circle  having  a  radius  of 
forty-nine  and  one-halt  feet.  They  then  extend 
to  within  twenty-five  feet  of  the  front  of  the  ma- 
sonry, where  they  meet  the  cable  wires.  The 
bars  have  an  average  length  of  twelve  and  one- 
half  feet;  the  first  three  seta  have  a  section  of 
7x3  inches,  the  next  three  8x3,  the  next  three 
9x3  inches;  the  tenth  set  is  double  iu  number, 
and  each  1  1-2  x  9  inches  section. 

The  total  weight  of  the  suspended  superstruc- 
ture, including  cables,  trusses,  suspeudem, 
braces,  timber,  flooring,  steel  rails,  etc.,  is  14,- 
680  tons;  and  the  transitorv  load  is  estimated  at 
3,100  tons,  making  the  total  weight  of  the  bridge 
17,780  tons. 

The  approach  on  the  Brooklyn  side  is  900  feet 
long  on  the  center  line,  and  commences  at  street 
grade  at  Sands  street,  rising  2.85  feet  per  100  to 
the  rear  of  the  anchorage,  where  it  is  sixty  feet 
above  ground.  It  is  crossed  by  several  streets, 
and  has  one  curve  at  about  200  feet  from  Sands 
street.  It  is  100  feet  wide 
throughout.  All  liie  streets 
are  crossed  by  box  or  plate 
girders.  The  New  York 
approach  is  1,546  long, 
commencing  at  grade  at 
Chatham  street,  and  rising 
3.25  feet  per  100  to  the  rear 
of  the  anchorage,  where  it 
is  sixty-eight  feet  above 
ground.  It  is  100  feet  wide 
for  about  500  feet  of  the 
distance,  and  eighty-five 
feet  for  the  remainder.  At 
Franklin  Square  is  an. 
opening  measuring,  210 
feet  on  one  side  and  170 
on*  the  other,  which  is 
spanned  by  a  truss  bridge. 
The  other  streets  are 
crossed  by  semicircular 
stone  arches.  The  ap- 
proaches are  a  series  of 
arches  resting  on  heavy 
piers  with  fronts  .entirely 
of  granite.  The  cornice 
over  the  arches  has  a  dent- 
il course  below,  surmount- 
ed by  a  heavy  projecting 
coping  course.  The  cor- 
nice is  surmounted  by  an 
ornamental  granite  para- 
pet, four  feet  high.  The 
arches  in  the  approaches 
will  be  fitted  up  for  ■ware- 
houses, and  in  order  to 
sustain  great  weight  the 
floor  beams  will  be  of  steel 
and  wrought  iron. 

Both  the  station  build- 
ings are  constructed  of 
iron.  The  viaduct  to  ac- 
commodate passengers  at 
the  Brooklyn  end  is  about 
600  feet  long.  Beginning 
at  Sands  street  it  is  fifty- 
six  feet  wide  (the  two 
passage  ways  for  vehicles 
are  at  either  side  ot  the 
building)  for  205  feet,  of 
which  185  feet  is  roofed 
r,ud  inclosed  on  the  sides. 
This  forms  a  building,  the 
ground  floor  of  which  is 
used  by  foot  passengers,  with  the  exception  of 
a  waiting-room,  60x18  feet,  on  the  left  as  we 
enter.  The  next  floor  is  at  a  height  of  about 
twenty  feet  above  Sands  street,  and  contains 
thVee  lines  of  rails  in  the  central  space  and  two 
capacious  passenger  platforms,  one  at  each  side, 
and  raised  2  1^  feet  above  the  rails.  These 
platforms  extend  to  some  distance  beyond  the 
end  of  the  building.  The  sides  of  the  building 
from  the  main  floor  to  the  eaves  of  the  roof  are 
of  ornamental  cast-iron  work  and  glass.  The 
lantern  framing  is  over  the  center  of  nearly  the 
whole  length  of  the  buildmg,  and  is  fourteen 
feet  wide  by  three  feet  high.  The  car  passen- 
gers enter  the  waiting-room  below,  pass  up  wide 
stairs  to  the  platform,  and  enter  cars  on  the 
right  track.  Incoming  passengers  get  ofi'  on  the 
other  side. 

The  New  York  station  is  twenty  feet  long  by 
fifty-two  and  one-sixth  wide;  the  height  to  peak 
of  "small  roof  at  rear  end  is  fifty-two  and  one- 
half  feet,  at  front  end  sixty-one  feet.  The  gen- 
eral arrangement  is  very  similar  to  that  of  the 
other  station. 
The  twentj'-four  cars  are  like  those  now  in. 


THK   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


use  on  the  elevated  roads  of  New  York.  They 
are  44  feet  between  couphngs,  9  1-2  feet  wide 
from  out  to  out,  and  will  comfortably  seat  forty- 
eight  passengers. 


THE  ELEVATED  RAILWAYS. 


From  Matthew  Hale  Smith's  popular  work,  en- 
titled "  Sunshine  and  Shadow  in  New  York," 
published  by  the  J.  B.  Burr  Publishing  Co., 
Hartford,  Conn.,  we  extract  the  following  de- 
scription of  the  Elevated  Railways: 

For  years  and  years  the  New  York  newspapers, 
merchants,  bankers,  brokers,  and  people  gener- 
ally who  lived  up  town  and  did  business  down 
town,  discussed  all  sorts  of  plans  lor  securing 
more  rapid  transit  than  omnibuses  or  the  street 
railways  afforded  trom  one  end  of  the  island  to 
the  other.  Underground  roads  for  steam  pro- 
pelled cars  wore  projected,  and  one  was  actually 
tunneled  for  a  short  distance  under  Broadway. 
At  last  it  was  discovered 
that  the  best  present  and 
most  practicable  means  of 
travel  was  above,  rather 
than  on,  or  even  under  the 
street,  and  this  determined, 
the  great  boon  of  rapid  tran- 
sit was  soon  secured.  It 
would  have  cost  millions  to 
remove  sewers  and  gas  and 
water  pipes,  or  to  change 
thsir  direction,  and  millions 
more  to  secure  the  right  of 
way  under  foundations, 
blocks  and  buildings  for  an 
underground  road.  Such  a 
scheme  was  impracticable, 
il  not  impossible. 

The  first  of  the  new  roads 
from  the  Battery  to  Central 
Park  and  beyond  was  open- 
ed June  5,  1878,  and  on  the 

■  first  day  2.5,000  persons 
availed  themselves  of  this 
novel  means  of  travel.  Run- 
ning through  some  of  the 

■  side  streets  on  the  west  side 
of  the  city  till  it  reached  the 
broad  Sixth  Avenue,  thence 

I   lo  Central  Park,  live  miles 

-  from  the  starting  point,   it 

■■  Was  pushed  as  rapidly  as  it 
could  be  built  to  the  Har- 
lem River.  Very  soon  after- 
wards, the  same  corpora- 
tion built  another  road  on 
the  east  side  of  the  city,  also 
extending  from  the  Battery, 
till  it  reached  the  Bowery 
and  then  through  Third 
Avenue  to  Harlem.  And  as 
soon  as  the  immenso  advan- 
tage of  thoso  up-iii-the-air 
roads  was  seen,  still  other 
branches  shot  upward,  till 
now  the  main  thoroughfares 
are  fairly  gridironed  with 
these  elevated  iron  roadp. 
It  is  as  if  the  lower  part  of 
the  city  were  the  palm  of  a 
great  hand  with  gigantic 
iron  fingers  stretclicd  out  to 
grasp  Westchester  county. 

The    pillars    which   sup- 
port   the  roads  are    rolled 
iron  set  deep  in  the  ground 
beyond    the    reach   of  dis- 
placement by  frost,  and  all 
the  supports  and  girders,  though  seemingly  light 
and  frail,  are  secure  and  substantial.     Where  the 
streets  are  narrow  the  roadway  is  bridged  across 
by  girders  from  side  to  side;  in  the  broad  Bow- 

.  cry  the  tracks  are  carried  on  rows  of  pillars 
close  to  the  curb  on  each  side  of  the  street;  and 
in  Third  and  Sixth  Avenues  they  rest  on  columns 

.  at  each  side  of  the  surface  railroads,  and  are 
bridged  at  the  top  by  iron  girders.  The  roads  are 
not    ornamental   to   the    city.      They  spoil  the 

^  fronts  of  many  fine  buildings.  They  destroy  the 
privacy  of  second  floor  tenements  past  which  thev 
run.  The  smoke  blown  into  the  windows,  and 
ashes,  water  and  oil  dropped  into  the  street,  and 
in  some  places  on  the  sidewalks,  occasion  much 
complaint;  they  darken  some  stores  and  places 
•f  business,  particularly  at  the  corners  where 
the  stations  and  stairways  to  the  same  are  erect- 
ed; the  noise  of  the  cars  is  a  nuisance;  and  the 
companies  pay  nothing  for  real  or  assumed  dam- 
ages to  private  property,  and  not  a  dollar  to  the 
eity  for  the  privilege  of  using  and  running  over 
tlie  ciOEt  puulic  thoroughfares.    But  the  advan- 


tages  in  rapid  transit,  in  the  increased  value  of 
up  town  property,  and  the  constantly  increasing 
trade  and  population  by  bringing  back  thousands 
who  have  been  forced  to  live  out  of  the  city,  but 
who  now  find  tenements  at  reasonable  rents  on 
the  upper  end  of  the  island,  more  than  compen- 
sate for  all  the  real  or  imaginary  damage  tnese 
roads  have  done  to  individuals  or  the  city. 

The  stations  on  these  roads  occur  at  Irequent 
intervals,  so  that  houses  can  be  reached  within 
a  block  or  two  almost  anywhere,  and  the  routes 
are  available  for  short  as  well  as  long  distances. 
The  cars  are  superbly  furnished  with  spring 
cushion  seats  handsomely  upholstered,  and 
ranged  on  each  side  of  the  length  of  the  car  so  as 
to  give  a  wide  passage  through  the  middle  for 
entrance  and  exit.  Nicely  carpeted  floors,  plate 
glass  windows  with  adjustable  bhnds,  and  neat 
ornamentation  throughout,  make  the  cars  attrac- 
tive to  passengers,  and  the  absolute  security  for 
the  safety  of  the  traveler  renders  accidents  of 
any  kind  very  rare.    Nervous  people  may  fear 


going  and  coming  to  and  from  their  houses  to 
their  work  or  places  of  business  is  an  immense 
advantage.  The  city  population  has  been  in- 
creased by  thousands  by  bringmg  back  these 
people.  Trade  of  all  sorts  which  goes  to  feed, 
furnish,  and  supply  these  lamihes  with  the  dailv 
necessaries  of  life  is  proporaonally  benefited". 
The  immense  advantage  in  real  estate  has  nor 
only  enriched  individuals,  but  has  added  to  the 
revenues  ot  the  city;  and  the  extensive  building 
enterprises,  which  will  go  on  till  all  the  vacant 
spaces  are  covered  with  streets  and  houses,  give 
employmant  to  thousands  of  mechanics  and  day- 
laborers.  The  large  slice  of  Westchester  county 
recently  comprised  within  the  city  limits  became 
immediately  valuable  by  means  of  rapid  convey- 
ance thereto,  and  the  elevated  railways  have 
added  incalculably  to  the  growth  and  wealth  of 
the  city  and  to  the  convenience  and  comfort  of 
the  people.  The  whole  upper  part  of  the  city  is 
now  as  accessible  to  the  citizen  or  the  strang<?r  as 
Union  Square  used  to  be  v?hen  the  only  means  of 
transit  were  the  street  cars 
and  omnibuses. 

One  curious  efiect  of 
these  roads  upon  certain 
kinds  of  retail  trade,  was 
noticed  within  a  year  after 
their  opening.  "Men  who 
had  moved  their  stores  and 
shops  from  down  town, 
found  that  either  they  had 
not  moved  up  far  enough, 
or  that  they  had  better 
move  back  again  to  their 
o  1  d  locations.  Business 
men  do  not  stop  to  make 
retail  purchases  on  their 
way  home,  as  heretofore. 
Either  they  buy  at  shops 
near  their  owii  place  of 
business,  or  wait  till  the 
cars  take  them  to  places 
near  their  homes.  Hence 
book,  picture  and  similar 
stores  flourish  in  Nassau 
Street,  and  first-class  tailor 
and  shoe  shops  do  a  good 
business,  even  in  Broad- 
and  other  down  town 
streets. 


THE  GREAT  BUILDINGS 
AND  OTHER  LEADIITG 
FEATURES  OF  NEW 
YORK. 


.«U^y^j^ 


THE  C08TO1I  HOrsE,    NEW  TOBE. 


that  the  cars  might  run  off  the  track  and  tumble 
down  into  the  street;  but  there  are  sure  safe- 
guards against  that  or  any  accident  that  might 
occur  from  a  broken  axle  or  wheel.  Millions  of 
people  securely  travel  every  year  over  these  ele- 
vated roads,  which  combine  safety  with  speed. 
The  trains  run  between  the  stations  at  the  rate 
of  thirty  miles  an  hour,  and  for  the  «hole  dis- 
tance, making  all  the  stops  to  let  off  and  take  on 
passengers,  at  the  rate  of^  sixteen  miles  an  hour. 
All  the  principal  elevated  railway  companies  are 
consolidated  in  one  corporation. 

The  greatest  advantage  to  the  city  by  the  open- 
ing of  the  elevated  roads  was  the  almost  immedi- 
ately increased  value  of  real  estate  on  the  upper 
part  of  the  island.  In  the  first  year  »fter  the 
trains  be^an  to  run,  more  than  500  houses  were 
built  above  Fiftieth  Street,  full  400  of  them  being 
second-class  houses  at  reasonable  rents  for  the 
small-salaned  and  working  classes  who,  hitherto, 
had  been  compelled  to  find  cheap  homes  on  Long 
Island,  in  New  Jersey,  or  elsewhere  in  the 
country.    To  these,  the  saving  in  time  alone  in 


BROADWAY. 

Broadway  is  not  as  broad. 
nor  as  long,  as  other  ave- 
nues of  New  York,  but  it  is 
beyond  comparison  the 
business  thoroughfare  of 
the  city,  and  taking  it  all 
and  all',  from  its  beginning 
at  the  Battery  to  its  ending 
at  Central  Park,  a  distance 
of  five  miles,  there  is  more 
variety  in  its  architecture, 
its  stores,  and  its  throngs 
of  people,  than  can  be 
found  anywhere  in  the 
world.  It  Is  pretty  sharply 
divided  into  sections,  each 
of  which  has  its  busy  period 
during  the  day.  Begin- 
ning at  the  starting-point, 
the  Battery,  we  come  at  once  to  Bowhng  Green. 
Facing^this  circular  inclosure  are  the  new  Pro- 
duce Exchange  and  the  new  Field  Building. 
Here  are  gathered  the  foreign  consular  ofticeH 
and  the  steamship  companies.  We  soon  reach 
Trinity  Church  at  the  head  of  Wall  Street,  and 
are  in  the  midst  of  bankers,  brokers,  lawyers, 
and  others.  At  the  corner  of  Wall  Street  is  the 
United  Bank  Building.  Trinity  Church,  oppo- 
site, with  its  churchyard  tilled  with  shrubbery 
and  trees,  seems  like  an  oasis  in  a  desert  of 
granite,  marble,  and  sandstone.  Passing  the 
church,  the  huge  and  imposing  structures  of  the 
Equitable  and  Mutual  Lite  Insurance  Compauirp, 
and  others  completely  dwarf  the  street,  and  it  i-; 
not  until  St.  Paul's  Church  and  churchyard  lae 
reached  that  Braadway  again  looks  wider.  Here 
is  the  best  pointlrom  which  to  study  the  turmoil 
of  New  York  street  traffic.  Here  Park  Row 
branches  out,  forming  an  acute  angle,  on  which 
stands  the  Post  Office,  while  the  many  lines  of 
horse-cars  terminating  opposite,  and  the  constant 
atream  of  omnibuses  and  vehicles  of  all  sorts. 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


v5 


pasaing  up  and  down  Broadway,  make  crossing 
here  an  art  which  recimreB  coneideiabh;  courage. 
Hero  tho  financial  division  of  Broadway  loses  it- 
self in  a  mass  ot  lawyers'  offices,  retail  clothing 
establishmenta,  etc.,  whicli  have  found  the  few 
blocks  opposite  tho  City  Hall  Park  a  convenient 
locality.  Then  comes  dry  goods  and  fancy  goods, 
carpets,  and  rijtibon  dealers,  all  selling  at  whole- 
sale only.  At  Spring  Street  we  reach  the  St. 
Nicholas  Hotel,  at  Princo  Street  the  Metropoli- 
tan, and  above  Bleecker,  the  Grand  Central.  At 
Ninth  Street  is  tho  vast  iron  structure  known  as 
A.  T.  Stewart's;  near  the  corner  of  Tenth  Street 
is  Grace  Church.  Union  Square,  which  is  less 
than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  here,  breaks  the 
continuity  of  Broadway,  and  when  it  begins 
again  it  is  on  the  west  of  the  square,  and  con- 
tinues its  course  in  that  direction,  crossing  all 
the  avenues  that  come  in  its  way.  Between 
Union  and  Madison  Squares,  whicli  are  only  a 
little  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  apart,  have 
been  erected  some  of  tho  largest  and  finest  stores 
in  the  city. 

THE  CTSTOM  HOUSE. 

This  building  was  formerly  the  Merchants' 
Exchange.  It  is  a  huge  pile  of  Quincv  granite, 
about  200  by  160  feet,  and  77  feet  high."  There  .3 
a  portico  on  Wall  Street,  hav- 
ing twelve  front,  four  middle, 
and  two  rear  columns,  each 
of  granite,  eighty-eight  feet 
high  and  four  and  one-half 
feet  in  diameter.  The  ro- 
tunda 18  eighty  feet  high,  and 
the  dome  is  supported  on 
eight  pilasters  ol  fine  Italian 
variegated  marble.  The  cost 
of  the  building  and  ground 
was  $1,800,000. 


to  400,000  shares  of  stock  change  hands  daily, 
and  the  value  of  the  railroad  and  miscellaneous 
bonds  dealt  in  is  from  $2,000,000  to  $3,000,000. 
In  government  bonds  the  transactions  average 
about  $400,000  in  amount  each  day,  but  millions 
are  dealt  in  privately  by  members.  The  scene 
upon  the  floor  during  business  hours  is  one  of 
noise  and  confusion,  and  at  times  the  place  re- 
sembles Bedlam.  The  15th  of  September  is 
White  Hat  Day,  and  the  smashing  of  the  white 
hats  worn  by  members  during  the  summer  is  re- 
ligionsly  attended  to.  The  facilities  for  doing 
business  oftered  by  the  Exchange  are  very  great, 
its  management  excellent.  Visitors  are  admitted 
to  tho  gallery  free  at  all  times  when  the  Exchange 
is  open. 


PRODUCE  EXCHANGE. 

The  Produce  Exchange  occupies  the  block 
bounded  by  Whitehall,  Pearl,  Moore,  and  Water 
Streets,  the  main  entrance  being  on  Whitehall 
street.  It  was  organized  in  1861,  and  is  tho 
largest  organization  of  its  kind  in  the  world.  Its 
membership  is  limited  to  3,000,  which  is  now 
full.  During  exchange  hours,  it  is  the  rendez- 
vous of  all  the  large  merchants  dealing  in  grain, 
lard,  etc.  About  November  it  will  remove  to  the 
new  building   on   Bowling   Green,  covering  a 


THE  SUB-TREASURY. 

Tho  United  States  Sub- 
Treaaury  is  in  a  large  white 
marble  building  standing  on 
the  site  of  the  old  Federal 
Hall  in  which  Washington 
was  inaugurated  first  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States. 
The  main  front  is  on  Wall 
Street,  facing  Broad  Street. 
It  runs  back  to  Pino  Street, 
Nassau  Street  flanking  it  on 
one  side  and  the  Assay  Office 
on  the  other.  The  design  of 
the  building  is  Doric;  its  di- 
mensions are:  Length,  from 
Wall  to  Pine  Streets,  200  feet; 
width,  80  feet;  height  of  Wall 
Sti-eet  front,  80  feet;  of  Pine 
Street  front,  60  feet,  the 
ground  gradually  sloping 
from  the  latter  street.  On 
the  Wall  Street  side  there  is 
an  imposing  portico  sup- 
ported oy  eight  marble  col- 
umns 32  feet  high,  and  on  the 
Pine  Street  side  there  is  a 
similar  portico.  The  Wall 
Street  portico  is  reached 
from  the  sidewalk  by  a  flight 
of  eighteen  marble  steps,  ex- 
tending the  entire  breadth  of 
the  building.  Within  there 
ia  a  rotunda  60  feet  in  diameter,  the  dome  being  | 
supported  by  sixteen  Corinthian  columns. 
Around  this  rotunda  are  ranged  the  desks  of 
the  various  divisions  of  the  Sub-Treasury.  There 
are  two  large  vaults  for  the  storage  of  gold  coin 
and  notes  on  this  floor,  and  the  large  vaults  for 
the  storage  of  silver  are  in  the  basement.  The 
building  is  furnished  with  steel  window  shutters 
and  doors. 


STOCK  EXCHANGE. 

The  building  is  in  the  style  of  the  French 
Renaissance,  is  five  stories  high,  of  white  marble, 
and  with  the  columns  and  upper  stories  of  col- 
ored granite.  It  has  a  Irontage  of  70  feet  on 
Broad  Street,  and  162  feet  on  New  Street,  with  an 
L  running  through  to  Wall  Street.  The  Board- 
room is  141  by  53  feet,  and  the  remainder  of  the 
building  is  divided  into  offices  for  members  of 
the  Exchange.  The  vaults  in  the  basement  for 
the  safe  deposit  of  valuables  are  the  most  ex- 
tensive in  the  United  States.  Members  only  are 
allowed  upon  the  floor.  The  Exchange  opens  at 
10  A.  M.,  and  closes  at  3  p.  m.  Seats  in  the  Ex- 
change are  transferable  with  the  consent  of  the  [ 
committee,  and  the  market  value  of  a  seat  has 
now  reached  the  price  of  $30,000,    About  300,000 


SUB-TREASURY. 

square.     This  ia  a  most  imposing  and   noble 
structure.  

TRINITY   CHURCH. 

The  wealthiest  single  church  organization  in 
the  United  States  is  the  Trinity  Corporation.  It 
is  also  the  oldest  in  New  York,  excepting  the 
Dutch  Reformed  Collegiate  Corporation,  the 
land  on  which  the  church  now  stands  having 
been  granted  by  the  English  Government  in  1697, 
being  in  the  fifth  year  of  the  reign  of  William  and 
Mary,  its  location  being  fixed  as  "  in  or  near"  to 
a  street  without  the  north  gate  ot  the  city,  com- 
monly called  Broadway.  Eight  years  later,  in 
1705,  the  church  received  from  the  same  sources 
the  gift  of  "  Queen  Anne's  Farm."  embracing  the 
entire  tract  lying  along  the  North  River,  between 
the  present  Vesey  and  Christopher  Streets.  A 
large  part  of  this  magnificent  endowment  the 
corporation  stiil  controls.  The  first  church  was 
completed  in  1699,  and  stood  unchanged  for  forty 
years,  when  it  was  almost  rebuilt.  At  the  out- 
break of  the  Revolution  it  was  closed  for  a  time, 
owing  to  the  persistency  of  the  clergy  in  reading 
the  prayers  for  the  King  of  England.  When  the 
British  army  had  established  itself  again  firmly 
in  the  city,  the  doors  were  again  opened,  but  af- 
ter a  few  days  it  was  destroyed  m  the  great  tire 


of  1770.  It  was  not  rebuilt  until  twelve  vears 
had  elapsed.  The  structure  then  erected  stood 
until  1839,  when  it  was  pronounced  unsafe,  and 
pulled  down  to  make  way  for  the  present  one, 
which  was  finished  in  1846.  This  is  still  one  of 
the  handsomest  specimens  of  Gothic  church 
architecture  in  the  city.  Looking  up  from  Wall 
Street,  at  tho  head  of  which  it  stands,  its  steeple 
rising  to  a  height  of  284  feet,  conveys  an  impres- 
sion of  size  which  buildings  of  greater  dimen- 
sions, but  less  fortunately  situated,  do  not  give. 
Tho  material  used— a  brown  sandstone— also 
helps  to  increase  the  general  effect.  "The  doors , 
are  open  in  tho  daytime.  The  gray  tints  of  the ' 
grained  roof  and  its  supporting  rows  of  carved 
Gothic  columns  is  mellowed  by  the  daylight. 
The  altar  and  reredos  were  erected  as  a  memo- 
rial to  William  B.  Astor  by  his  sons.  The 
altar  is  eleven  feet  long,  and  is  divided  into 
panels.  In  the  center  panel  is  a  Maltese  cross 
in  mosaic,  set  with  cameos  and  the  symbols  of 
the  Evangelist.  Surrounding  the  church  is  the 
churchyard,  containing  gravestones  dating  back 
as  far  as  the  church  itself. 


COOPER    UNION. 

This  building  is  at  the  junction  of  Third  and 
Fourth  .\venues  at  Seventh  Street  and  the  Bow- 
ery. It  is  a  brown  stone 
building  of  plain  and  mas- 
sive appearance,  and  seven 
Stories  high.  It  was  built  by 
the  late  Peter  Cooper  in 
1857,  at  a  cost  of  $630,000, 
and  endowed  with  $200,000, 
for  the  support  of  the  free 
reading-room  and  library. 
The  expenses  of  keeping  n"p 
the  Union  are  about  $50,000 
per  annum,  which  is  derived 
principally  from  the  rentals 
of  stores  and  offices  in  the 
building,  and  the  income  of 
the  endowment  fund.  The 
scheme  of  the  Union  in- 
cludes free  schools  of  science 
and  art,  and  a  fixe  reading- 
room  and  library.  The  eve-  . 
ning  schools  of  science  and 
art  are  attended  by  over 
3,000  students  annually, 
mostly  from  the  various 
trades  and  occupations  of 
the  city.  None  are  admitted 
under  the  age  of  fifteen,  or 
who  are  not  acquainted  with 
the  rudiments  of  reading, 
writing  and  arithmetic.  Fe- 
males are  admitted  to  the 
lectures  and  the  scientific 
classes.  A  special  art  school 
is  provided  for  women  in  the 
day. 


LUDLOW   STREET  JAIL. 

Persons  arrested  under 
process  issued  to  the  Sheriff 
of  the  County  of  New  York, 
are  taken  to  Ludlow  Street 
Jail.  Delinquent  members 
of  the  National  Guard  form 
a  large  class.  The  jail  also 
receives  persons  arrested 
for  violating  the  United 
States  laws.  Superior  accommodations  are  fur- 
nished to  those  able  and  willing  to  pay  for  them. 
The  building  is  of  brick,  and  extends  from  Lud- 
low Street  eastward  to  Essex  Street.  It  is  about 
100  feet  north  ol  Grand  Street,  between  which 
and  it  is  Essex  Market,  separated  by  a  narrow 
lane. 

THE   OR.O-D   CENTRAL    DEPOT. 

Probably  the  finest  and  largest  railroad  depot 
in  the  world  is  the  Grand  Central,  on  East  Forty- 
second  Street  and  Fourth  Avenue. 

The  Victoria  Station  in  Westminster,  London, 
and  the  station  in  Turin,  Italy,  are  eecondarv  in 
sizo  to  this  great  structure  which  Commodore 
Vandcrbilt,  the  railroad  king,  caused  to  be 
erected  for  the  accommodation  of  the  traveling 
public  of  the  metropolis.  The  depot  was  com- 
menced on  September  15,  1869,  and  on  October 
7,  1871,  the  first  train  left  the  building.  The  de- 
pot is  240  feet  wide  by  696  feet  in  length;  it  is 
made  of  stone,  brick,  iron  and  glass,  with  wood 
for  inside  finishing.  Ten  milhons  of  bricks  wiere 
used,  and  the  house  covers  four  acres,  and  has 
two  acres  of  glass  in  the  roof.  There  are  182 
windows,  41  doors,  18  stairways,  and  2,000  g  ? 
burner.s,   which    are   lighted   bv   2.5.000   leet   of 


THE  QREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


t'.cctric  wire.  Fifty  intersectiBg  railway  tracks 
diverge  from  the  "building,  covering  a  yard  of 
four  acrets.  Ttiis  depot  serves  as  a  junction  tor 
the  Hudson  River,  the  New  York  Central,  the 
New  York  and  Harlem,  and  the  New  York  and 
New  Haven  Railroads.  The  interior  of  the  pas- 
senger room  where  the  care  arrive  and  depart 
is  as  imposing  as  the  exterior  shovni  in  the  il- 
lustration. Trains  are  constantly  arrivmg  and 
departing,  and  so  admirable  la  the  system,  every- 
thing moves  like  clock  work. 

Mr.  J.  C.  Buckhout  was  the  architect  and  en- 
gineer of  the  building  and  its  dependencies,  and 
IS  entitled  to  great  credit  for  the  fine  arrange- 
ment and  completion  of  the  gigantic  and  u 
Qificent  structure. 


USIVEBSITY  OF  THE  CITY  OF  NEW  YORK. 

This  building  consists  of  departments  of  arts, 
science,  law,  and  medicine.  Instruction  in  the 
three  first  is  given  in  theUaiveraity  building,  on 
the  east  side  of  Washington  Square,  between 
Washington  and  Waverly  Place.  The  governing 
body  is  a  council  of  thirty-two  members.  The 
faculty  consists  of  the  chancellor,  and  of  a  staff 
of  professors  and  instructors,  numbering  about 
siity-lour.  The  University  was  chartered  in 
1830.  The  building  on  Washington  Square  is  a 
handsome  Gothic  structure  of  white 
freestone,  and  the  lecture  rooms  are  ^  ^ 
well    arranged.    The  income  is  about  *~ 

$40,000  per  annum.  Instruction  in  the 
department  of  arts  and  science  is  free; 
the  course  is  four  years,  and  in  law  two 
years,  while  in  that  of  medicine  it  de- 
pends on  the  student. 


site  of  the  House  of  Refuge,  and  other  charities 
provided  by  the  city  for  destitute  children.  On 
the  south  aide  of  the  island  is  the  House  of 
Refuge,  under  the  care  of  the  Society  for  the 
Reformation  of  Juvenile  Delinquents,  lor  the  use 
of  which  thirty  acres  are  set  apart.  The  build- 
ings arc  of  brick,  in  the  Italian  style  of  archi- 
tecture; the  two  principal  buildings  are  nearly 
1,000  feet  long.  The  Doys  and  girls  are  kept 
separate,  and  those  guilty  of  social  crime  apart 
from  the  more  youthful.  Children  brought  be- 
fore police  magistrates  are  sentenced  to  this  in- 
stitution. The  average  number  of  inmates  is 
800,  all  of  whom  are  taught  to  work,  as  well  as 
instructed  in  the  common  English  branches. 
This  institution  is  the  first  of  the  kind  ever  or- 
ganized. John  Gnscomb,  L.L.  D.,  a  member 
of  the  Society  of  Friends,  was  the  pioneer  in  a 
philanthropic  movement  which  led  to  the  forma- 
tion of  this  society.  The  charter  was  obtained 
in  182i,  and  on  January  1,  1825,  with  six  girls 
and  three  ragged  boys,  the  first  House  of  Refuge 
was  inaugurated  in  the  old  barracks  on  Madison 
Square,  which  was  then  a  long  way  out  of  the 
city.  Here  the  Refuge  remained  about  fifteen 
years,  and  in  1839  was  transferred  to  Bellevuc, 
at  23i  Street  and  East  River,  where  it  continued 
about  the  same  length  of  time,  and  m  1854  it  was 
transferred  to  its  present  location.    It  is  a  State 


situated  on  the  Harlem  River,  ia  the  old  Morris 
mansion,  once  the  headquarters  of  Washington, 
and  later  the  property  of  Madame  Jumel. 


CENTn.\L   PARK. 

Central  Park,  now  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  in  the  world,  was  within  the 
memory  of  this  generation  a  waste  of 
rock  and  swamp.  The  work  was  taken 
in  hand  in  1857,  little  more  than  twenty 
years  ago.  Green  lawns,  shady  groves, 
fine  drives  and  walks,  inviting  expanses 
•of  water,  and  picturesauc  bits  of  scen- 
ery have  taken  root  ana  blossomed  in  a 
"waste  place.  The  Park  is  bounded  on 
the  south  by  59th  Street,  on  the  north  by 
110th  Street,  on  the  east  by  5th  Avenue, 
and  on  the  west  by  8th  Avenue.  The 
Park  measures  from  north  to  south 
13,464  feet  10  inches,  or  256  feet  over 
two  and  a  half  miles.  Its  breadth  is 
2,719  feet,  or  79  feet  over  half  a  mile. 
The  area  within  these  bounds  measures 
840  acres.  The  length  of  carriage-ways 
or  drives,  having  an  average  width  of  54 
feet  and  a  width  of  60  feet,  is  about  nine 
miles;  the  length  of  the  bridle-paths, 
having  an  average  width  of  16  1-i  feet, 
is  about  five  and  a  half  miles;  and  the 
length  of  the  walks  or  footpaths,  having 
a  breadth  of  13  feet,  is  about  twentj-- 
■eight  and  a  hall  miles.  There  are  about 
thirty  buildings  in  the  Park  of  all  kinds, 
and  there  are  outside  of  these  seats 
provided  for  about  10,000  persons,  of 
which  nearly  000  are  in  vine-covered 
arbora.  The  wooded  ground  covers 
about  400  acres,  on  which  have  been  set 
out  over  500,000  trees,  shrubs,  and 
vines.  The  Park  is  beautiful  all  the 
year  round.  It  is  at  all  times  the  fashionable 
ilrive.  There  are  forty-eight  bridges,  archways, 
and  tunnels.  Thpy  are  all  highly  ornamental, 
and  of  great  variety  in  architectural  design. 
The  ball-ground  is  afine  stretch  of  lawn  contain- 
ing ten  acres.  Bolvidere  is  the  highest  point  in 
the  Park.  Bethesda  Fountain  is  the  central  or- 
nament of  the  Park,  and  is  placed  at  the  foot  of  1 
the  Terrace.  Carousal  is  a  part  set  apart  for  ' 
the  amusement  of  the  younger  children.  The 
Casino  is  a  pretty  atone  "cottage.  The  total  area 
of  water  in  tue  Park,  exclusive  of  the  reservoirs, 
is  43  1-4  acres.  The  Mall  is  a  broad  path  lined 
with  trees.  It  commands  a  fine  view  of  this  part 
of  the  Park,  and  is  the  grand  promenade.  The 
Park  contains  a  menagerie,  containing  a  very 
fine  collection  of  birds  and  animals.  There  is 
also  an  observatory.  The  Ramble  is  one  of  the 
most  charming  parts  of  the  Park.  Vehicles  used 
for  business  purposes  are  not  permitted  within 
the  Park. 


THE   rionSE   OF   REFOOE,    R.VNDAI.l'8   ISLAND. 

Randall's  Island  is  at  the  junction  of  the  East 
River  and  Long  Island  Sound.  It  is  divided 
from  the  shore  on  fho  north  by  a  narrow  channel 
known  as  the  Harlem  Kills,  on  the  south  from 
Ward's  Island  by  Little  Hell  Gate,  and  is  the 


NEW  TOBK  STOCK   EXCHANOE. 

institution.  Visitors  must  obtain  a  paas  from  tin- 
Commissioners  of  Charities,  and  are  admitted 
dailv  from  nine  to  five. 


.LOOIUNODAI.E   ASYLnU   FOR   THE    INSANE. 

This  building  ia  on  the  Boulevard  and  117th 
Streets.  It  is  a  department  of  the  New  York 
Hospital.  The  management  is  invested  in  a 
committee  of  six  govornoi-s  of  the  Hospital.  All 
patients  are  of  the  independent  class,  and  pay 
trom  seven  to  forty  dollars  per  week  for  board 
and  treatment. 


HIGH    BRIDGE. 

This  magnificent  structure,  by  which  the  Cro- 
ton  Aqueduct  is  carried  across  Harlem  River, 
is  of  granite  throughout,  and  spans  the  entire 
width  cf  valley  and  river,  from  cliff  to  cliff.  It 
is  1,450  feet  long,  114  feet  high,  and  supported 
on  14  massive  piers,  and  has  been  well  called  "  a 
structure  worthy  of  the  Roman  Empire."  On  the 
lofty  bank  at  ita"  south  end  is  a  capacioua  reaer- 
voir  for  the  supply  of  the  higher  portions  of  the 
city,  the  water  being  pumped  into  it  by  power- 
ful machinery.  From  this  point  a  comprehen- 
sive view  of  the  city  and  surroundings  may  be 
had.    A  little  below"  High  Bridge,  picturcsqiiely 


HIGH  LIFE  IN  NEW  YOBK. 

The  following  sketch  of  life  an#ng  the  "  upper 
ten  "is  from  Matthew  Hale  Smith's  "  Sunanme 
and  Shadow  in  New  Y'ork,"  published  by  the 
J.  B.  Burr  Publishing  Co.,  of  Hartford  Conn.: 

With  the  ehte  of  New  York,  so  called,  monev 
is  the  principal  thing.  The  best  society  of  New 
York  is  not  to  be  found  amon"  the  elite.  If  you 
wish  parties,  soirees,  balls,  that  are  elegant,  at- 
tractive, and  genteel,  you  will  not  find  them 
among  the  snobbish  cliqiie,  who,  with  nothing  but 
money,  attempt  to  rule  New  York.  Talent, 
taste,  and  refinement  do  not  dwell  with  these. 
But  hi£;h  hfe  has  no  passport  except  money.  If 
a  man  has  this,  though  destitute  of  character  and 
brains,  he  is  made  welcome.  One  may  come 
from  Botany  Bay  or  St.  James;  with  a  ticket  of 
leave  from  a  penal  colony  or  St.  Cloud;  if  be  has 
diamond  rings  and  a  coach,  all  places  will  be 
opened  to  him.  The  leaders  of  upper  New  York 
were,  a  few  years  ago,  porters,  etable-boya,  coal- 
heavers,  pickers  of  rags,  ecrubbera  of  floors,  and 
laundry  women.  Coarse,  rude,  ignorant,  un- 
civil, and  immoral  many  ot  them  arc 
still.  Lovers  of  pleasure  and  men  of 
fashion  bow  and  cringe  to  such,  and  ap- 

g roach  hat  in  hand.  One  of  our  mw- 
edged  millionaires  gave  a  ball  in  his 
stable.  The  invited  came  with  tokens 
of  deUght.  Tlie  host,  a  few  years  ago, 
was  a  ticket  taker  at  one  of  our  ferries, 
and  would  have  thankfully  blacked  the 
boots  or  done  any  menial  service  for  the 

Eeople  who  clamor  for  the  honor  of  Lis 
and.  At  the  gate  of  Central  Park, 
every  day,  splendid  coaches  may  be 
seen",  in  which  sit  large,  fat,  coarse  wo- 
men, who  carry  with  them  the  marks  of 
the  wash-tub.  These  people  have 
money.  They  spend  it  in  untold  sums 
for  balls,  parties,  and  soirees,  and  in 
drawing  upper  New  York  into  their 
gaudy  manaiona. 

A  &IASKED  BALL. 

A  young  Boston  lady,  by  an  eligible 
marriage  with  a  princely  merchant,  be- 
came the  mistress  of  an  extensive  man- 
sion in  Madison  Square.  While  in 
France  she  captivated  the  Emperor  by 
her  auperb  dancing  and  graceful  akat- 
ing.  His  majesty  sent  her  a  costly 
present.  At  Saratoga  and  Newport  she 
drove  her  own  dashing  team  with  her 
lootmau  behind,  and  became  the  moat 
conspicuous  of  the  visitors  at  those  gay 

Elacea.  She  resolved  to  give  a  fancy 
all,  and  all  the  elite  were  in  a  fever  of 
excitement.  Brown,  of  Grace  Church, 
had  charge  of  the  invitations,  and  five 
hundred  were  given  out.  All  the  gucata 
were  in  costume.  Three  fourths  of  the 
guests  wore  maaks.  The  drosses  were 
rich,  elegant,  and  costly.  Suits  were 
ordered  troni  Paris  and"  London.  The 
hostess  appeared  as  the  Goddess  of 
Music.  Her  dress  was  short,  and  her 
boots  scarlet  and  trimmed  with  email 
bells.  On  her  head  was  a  lyre,  from 
which  ias  led  brilliant  jets  of  burning  gas.  Stock 
broKers,  men  in  high  life,  and  fast  New  Yorkers, 
appeared  in  various  characters,  among  which 
the  representatives  of  a  monkev  and  of  Satan  at- 
tractea  the  most  attention.  The  mansion  was 
superbly  fitted  up.  Thousands  of  dollars  were 
apent  in  floral  decorations.  Plate  ol  gold  and 
silver,  china  from  beyond  the  seas,  adorned  the 
table.  Servants  in  brilliant  gold  and  silver  hv- 
ery  waited  on  the  guests.  Hidden  bands  sent 
music  through  the  mansion.  The  supper  lasted 
till  five  in  the  morning.  The  last  strains  of 
music  for  the  daucers  closed  at  six.  The  count- 
ing-rooms were  thrown  open,  the  hammer  of  the 
artisan  was  heard,  carmen  and  laborers  were  at 
their  work,  before  the  festivities  ended  and  the 
door  closed  on  the  last  departing  guest.  Such 
ia  high  hfe  in  New  York. 

WHO   H.VS  MONEY. 

Much  of  the  society  of  New  York  is  very  select, 
intellectual,  and  genteel.  But  the  moneyed 
aristocracv,  those  who  crowd  gilded  saloons  and 
make  up  the  parties  ot  the  Inn,  who  are  invited  to 
soirees,  fancy  balls,  and  late  snppers,  are  among 
the  coarsest,  most  vulgar  and  illiterate  of  our 
people.  Monev  is  made  easily  by  many  in  New 
York;  fortunes  are  acquired  in  a  day;  families 
go  from  a  shantv  on  a  back  street  to  a  brown- 


TH£:  GREAT   EMPIRE    CITY. 


Btono  front  in  upper  New  York,  but  they  carry 
with  them  their  vulgar  habits,  and  diBgust  those 
who  from  social  position  are  compelled  to  invito 
nheui  to  their  houses.  At  a  fashionable  party 
persons  are  invited  according  to  their  baDK  ac- 
count and  to  their  standing  on  'Change.  A 
fashionable  party  is  made  up  of  representatives 
of  all  nations  and  all  religious—men  and  women 
who  can  speak  the  Euglish  language  and  those 
who  cannot,  Jews  and  Gentiles,  Irisli  and  Ger- 
mans, red-faced  and  heavy-bearded  men,  coarse- 
featured,  red-faced,  uncultivated  women,  who 
are  loaded  down  with  jewelry  and  covered  with 
satins,  who  can  cat  as  much  as  a  soldier  in  the 
trenches.  If  they  give  a  party,  they  give  it  to 
those  who  ridicule  their  position  and  manners. 
If  they  go  to  a  party,  they  laugh  in  their  turn. 

BROWX,  or  GRACE  CHURCH. 

The  most  famous  man  connected  with  New 
York  high  life  is  Brown,  the  sexton  of  Grace 
Church.  For  many  years  Grace  has  been  the 
center  of  fashionable  New  York.  To  be  married 
or  buried  within  its  walls  has  been  ever  consid- 
ered the  height  of  felicity.  For  many  years 
Brown  has  stood  at  the  entrance  to  fashionable 
life.  He  get.s  up  parties,  engineers  bridals,  and 
conducts  lunerala  more  genteelly  than  any  other 
man.  "  The  Lenten  season  is  a  horridly  dull 
season,"  he  is  reported  to  have  said;  "  but  we 
manage  to  make  our  funerals  as  entertaining  as 
possible."  No  partv  iu  high  life  is  complete 
without  him.  A  fasliionable  lady  about  to  nave 
a  fashionable  gathering  at  her  house  orders  her 
meats  from  tbe  butcher,  her 
supplies  from  the  grocer,  her 
cakes  and  ices  from  the  confec- 
tioner, but  her  invitations  she 
puts  into  the  hands  of  Brown. 
He  knows  whom  to  invite  and 
whom  to  omit.  He  knows  who 
will  come,  who  will  not  come, 
but  will  send  regrets.  In  case 
of  a  pinch,  he  can  fill  \ip  the  list 
with  young  men,  p  i  c  k  e  d  up 
about  town,  in  black  swallow- 
taUed  coats,  white  vests,  and 
white  cravats,  who,  in  consider- 
ation of  a  fine  supper  and  a 
dance,  will  allow  themselves  to 
be  passed  off  as  the  sons  of  dis- 
tinguished New  Yorkers.  The 
city  has  any  quantity  of  ragged 
noblemen,  seedy  lords  from 
Germany,  Hungarian  barons 
out  at  the  elbow,  members  of 
the  European  aristocracy  who 
'  \>^h  their  country  for  their  coun- 
try's good,  who  can  be  served 
up  iu  proper  proportions  at  a 
fashionable  party  when  the  oc- 
casion demands  it.  No  man 
knows  tlieir  haunts  better  than 
Brown.  He  revels  in  funerals. 
Fashion  does  not  change  more 
frequently  in  dress  than  in  the 
method  of  conducting  funerals 
in  high  life.  What  constituted 
a  very  genteel  funeral  last  year 
would  be  a  very  vulgar  one  this, 
tation  are  sent  out  as  to  a  party, 
shutters  of  the  house  are  closed,  and  the  funeral 
takes  place  in  gas-light.  The  lights  are  arranged 
for  artistic  effect.  Parties  who  have  the  entree 
of  fashionable  life  can  tell,  the  moment  they  en- 
ter the  rooms,  what  fashionable  sexton  has 
charge  of  the  funeral.  The  arrangement  of  the 
furniture,  the  position  of  the  coffin,  the  laying 
out  of  the  body,  the  coffin  itself,  the  adjustment 
Df  the  lights,  the  hanging  of  the  drapery,  the 
plate-glass  hearse,  the  number  of  horses,  the 
iize  and  quaUty  of  the  plumes  on  the  hearse  and 
team,  indicate  "the  style  of  tho  funeral,  and  the 
wealth  and  social  position  of  the  family.  Mourn- 
ing has  a  style  peculiar  to  itself,  and  the  intensity 
of  the  grief  is  indicated  by  the  depth  of  the 
crape.  Brown  is  a  huge  fellow,  coarse  in  his 
features,  resembling  a  dressed-up  carman.  His 
face  is  very  red,  and  on  Sundays  he  passes  up 
and  down  the  aisles  of  Grace  Church  with  a  pe- 
cuhar  swagger.  He  bows  strangers  into  a  pew, 
when  he  deigns  to  pve  them  a  seat,  with  a  ma- 
jestic and  patronizing  air,  designed  to  impress 
them  with  a  realizing  sense  of  the  obligation  he 
has  conferred  upon  them. 

YKLLOW    KIDS. 

Fashionable  New  York  is  distinguished  by  vel- 
low  kids.  The  supply  must  be  large,  for  "the 
demand  is  gieat.  Wherever  you  find  fashion- 
able New  York  or  young  New  York,  there  you 
will  find  yellow  kids.  On  New  Year's  Day,  when 
thousands  throng  the  streets,  every  man  you 
meet,  young  or  old,  who  mftkee  any  pretension 


to  society,  wears  yellow  gloves.  When  the  Com- 
mon Council  turn  out,  every  man  sports  a  nair 
at  the  city's  expense.  In  Broadway  or  at  Cen- 
tral Park,  at  the  opera  or  iu  church,  these  glar- 
ing appendages  flash  before  tho  eye.  A  fashion- 
able New  Yorker  may  have  seedy  clothes,  a  hat 
out  of  season,  boots  the  worse  for  wear,  still  he 
will  sport  his  yellow  kids. 


After  the  London  fashion,  clubs  arc  becoming 
common  among  the  upper  ten.  They  have  not 
yet  got  the  political  significance  of  those  of  the 
Old  World.  Tho  Loyal  League,  in  its  elegant 
quarters  on  Union  Square,  is  Uepublican.  The 
Manhattan  Club  is  Democratic.  But  these  are 
for  occasional  festivals.  The  members  of  each 
belong  to  the  different  clubs  of  the  city.  The 
most  elegant  buildings  on  Fifth  Avenue  are  club 
houses.  They  are  furnished  in  the  most  gor- 
geous manner.  Every  convenience  of  comfort 
and  luxury  that  can  be  conceived  is  found  with- 
in the  walls.  Nearly  every  club  house  indicates 
the  brief  life  of  a  New  York  aristocrat.  A  lucky 
speculation,  a  sudden  rise  in  real  estate,  a  new 
turn  of  the  wheel  of  fortune,  lifts  up  tho  man 
who  yesterday  could  not  be  trusted  for  his  din- 
ner, and  gives  him  a  place  among  tho  men  of 
wealth.  He  buys  a  lot  on  Fifth  Avenue,  puts  up 
a  palatial  residence,  outdoing  all  who  have  gone 
before  him,  sports  his  gay  team  in  Central  Park, 
carpets  his  sidewalk,  gives  two  or  three  parties, 
and  disappears  from  society.  His  family  return 
to  the  sphere  from  which  they  were  taken,  and 


citv.  His  property  cannot  amount  to  less  than 
t26o,  000,000,  and  probably  is  nearer  $300,000,000 
than  the  former  sum.  He  is  without  questioa 
the  richest  man  on  the  globe  to-day.  He  could 
buy  any  of  Rothschilds,  and  still  be  the  richest 
man  in  the  world.  And  unlike  the  rich  men  of 
England — the  Dukes  of  Bedford,  Westminster, 
Argyll,  and  Buccleuch,  who  inherited  their  great 
csUtee — Vanderbilfs  property  has  been  accu- 
mulated in  two  generations,  and  the  most  of  it 
in  thirty  years.  The  case  stands  without  a  par- 
allel in  history. 

It  is  a  singular  list  of  names  that  follows  that 
of  Vanderbilt  iu  this  catalogue.  We  take  eacli ' 
at  liis  reputed  valuation:  Jay  Gould,  $100,000,- 
000;  D.  O.  Mills,  $20,000,000,  Bussell  Sage,  $1.5,- 
000,000;  J.  11.  Keene,  $15,000,000;  the  late  E.  D. 
Morgan,  $10,000,000;  b.  J.  Tilden,  $15,000,000; 
Samuel  Sloan,  $10,()00,000;  Commodore  Garri- 
son, $10,000,000;  Cyrus  W.  Field,  $10,000,000; 
Hugh  J.  Jewctt,  $5,000,000;  Sidney  Dillon,  $5,- 
000,000;  David  Dows,  $5,000,000;  J.  De  Navaro, 
$5,000,000;  John  W.  Garret,  $5,000,000;  W.  W. 
Astor,  $5,000,000. 


FAST  LIFE  IN  NEW  YOEK. 


Cards  of  invi- 
Sometimes  the 


PRODUCE  EXCH.tSGE. 

his  mansion,  with  its  gorgeous  furniture,  be-  | 
comes  a  club  house.  These  houses  are  becom- 
ing more  and  more  numerous.  They  are  break- 
ing up  what  little  social  and  domestic  life  re- 
mains in  the  city.  Few  homes  are  known  to  New 
York  high  life.  "Men  go  to  the  club  to  dine,  and 
spend  their  evenings  amid  its  fascinations. 

There  are  about  fifty  incorporated  clubs  iu  the 
city— political,  social,  sporting,  literary,  and  ar- 
tistic. The  principal  of  these  are  the  Manhat- 
tan, Democratic,  the  Union  League,  Republican, 
whose  new  club  house  cost  $270,000,  Union, 
Lotos,  and  University,  all  on  Fifth  Avenue;  New 
York,  St.  Nicholas,  Army  and  Navy,  and  Sorosis, 
the  ladies'  club,  in  up"-town  streeta  near  Fifth 
Avenue;  the  Century,  one  of  the  oldest  and 
richest  clubs,  has  a  fine  building  in  East  Fif- 
teenth Street;  the  Racquet  Club  is  in  Sixth 
Avenue;  the  American  Jockey  in  Madison 
Avenue;  and  the  Prefes  Club,  whicli  numbers 
more  than  three  htindred  members,  is  near  ; 
Printing  House  Square,  iu  Nassau  Street. 

THE   MTLLION-URES. 

Before  the  war  there  were  very  few  men  in 
New  York  worth  over  $5,000,000.  Most  of  Stew- 
art's property  was  acquired  during  and  after  the 
war.  Most  men  now  worth  $10,000,000  and  up- 
ward were  considered  poor  and  honest  twenty- 
five  vears  ago.  To-day  W.  H.  Vanderbilt  has 
$65,000,000  m  United  States  bonds,  and  he  is  re- 
ported to  hold  some  $.50,000,000  in  New  York 
Central  and  Hudson  River  stock,  $50,000,000 
more  in  other  railroads  in  this  and  other  States, 
and  a  Tast  amount  of  valuable  real  est.'itc  m  ihia 


There  is  no  department  or  profession  in  the 
city,  writes  Matthew  Hale  Smith,  in  his  cele- 
brated book  entitled,  "  Sunshine  and  Shadow  in 
New  York,"  where  fast  men  cannot  bo  found. 
The  pulpit,  the  bar,  mercantile  and  banking  life, 
have  specimens  of  this  class;  none  can  be  called 
exempt.  The  temptations  to 
hazard  are  very  great,  and  high 
life  is  at  a  premium  among  & 
class.  Besides  these  men  who 
are  princes  in  trade,  and  like 
the  merchants  of  Tyre,  are  "  the 
honorable  of  tho  earth,"  are 
men  who  live  for  the  day  and 
the  hour,  and  whose  motto  is, 
"All  is  fair  in  trade."  These 
men  gam  money  in  anyway  that 
is  open  to  them,  reckless  of  con- 
sequences. They  go  for  a  merry 
life,  though  it  be  a  short  one. 
It  they  make  five  hundred  dol- 
lars, they  spend  it  at  once  oa 
their  whims,  caprices,  passions, 
and  appetites.  Penniless  curb- 
stone brokers,  one  day  they 
have  rooms  at  an  up-town  hotel, 
the  next  ride  down  to  the  street 
in  a  coach,  drink  the  costliest 
wine,  eat  the  most  exciting  food, 
dash  out  in  a  splendid  dress, 
hire  a  box  at  the  opera,  and  th« 
next  week  become  as  penniless 
and  destitute  as  before.  With 
fast  New  York,  money  is  every- 
thing; balls,  parties,  and  soirees 
are  open  to  the  man  of  the  dia- 
mond ring,  and  who  calls  in  a. 
coach.  Parties  who  a  year  or 
tw:\  ago  were  porters,  "stable- 
boys,  and  coal-heavers  affect 
style,  and  drive  the  stunning 
turnouts  on  the  Park.  Some  women,  who  give 
what  are  called  select  parties,  are  rude,  coarse, 
and  ignorant,  from  whose  persons  the  marks  of 
the  wash-tub  and  the  stiffness  of  their  joints 
from  scrubbing  has  cot  beeu  eflaced.  Men  who 
were  ticket  takers  at  a  ferry,  starters  on  an  om- 
nibus route,  or  car  drivers,  buy  expensive  teams 
and  lead  the  fashion  for  an  hour.  So-called 
fashionable  people  will  scramble  for  an  invitation 
to  a  masque  ball,  or  a  fancy  party,  who  would 
not  speak  to  the  hostess  outside  of  her  own 
dwelliug. 

RECRE.iTIONS   OF   THE    FAST   CLASS. 

The  fashionable  recreations  of  the  fast  class 
in  New  York  are  m  keeping  with  the  low  life 
from  which  they  sprung,  and  with  their  extrava- 
gant habits.  Ladies  appear  in  their  costly  man- 
sions, glittering  with  gas  and  covered  with  bells. 
Extravagant  costumes,  imported  at  fabulous 
prices,  represent  monkeys,  Satan,  apes,  and 
other  forms,  which  show  the  taste  of  the  wearers. 
Servants  are  decked  out  in  gold  and  silver  liv- 
ery. Laboring  men  of  different  nationalities  are 
hired  for  the  occasion,  and  dressed  up  in  fancy 
costumes  to  represent  nobles  and  barons  of  the- 
Old  World.  This  style  of  life  is  invariably  of 
short  duration.  Since  Lenox,  who  led  the  up- 
town movement,  laid  the  foundation  of  his  sub- 
stantial dwelling  on  Fifth  Avenue,  which  is  still 
occupied  by  him,  at  least  five  hundred  families 
have  occupied  gorgeous  mansions  and  disap- 
peared from  sight.  .\11  up  and  down  Fifth 
Avenue  are  magnificent  mansions,  built  by  fast 
111.^11  of  thr  Hlroct,  and  cjcupied  by  buttorflies  of 


8 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE  CITY. 


fashion,  during  the  brief,  aunny  hour  allotted  to 
them.  These  persona  were  the  rage  and  sensa- 
tion for  tue  time.  Nothing  was  good  enough  tor 
their  use,  in  this  country.  Carpets  woven  in  the 
most  celebrated  looms"  in  foreign  cities,  furni- 
ture manufactured  at  an  immense  cost  in  Paris, 
gold  and  silver  jjlate  and  china  brought  from  be- 
yond the  seas  were  the  marvels  of  the  hour. 
When  a  party  was  given,  all  New  York  was 
fstirred;  the  sidewalks  were  carpeted,  and  the 
mansions  brilhantly  illuminated.  The  turnouts 
were  the  envy  of  the  city.  Such  dresses,  such 
horses,  such  aristocratic 
livery  could  not  be  matched 
in  the  country.  Without  a 
single  esception,  theee  fast 
livers  of  pleasure  have 
gone  out  of  sight,  not  one 
remaining  to-day  who  was 
on  the  surface  ten  years 
ago.  Some  that  I  have 
eeeu,  the  envy  of  Saratoga 
and  Newport",  are  dead; 
others  occupy  tenement 
houses  in  the  city  \vith 
drunken  husbands  who 
Lave  added  intemperance 
to  financial  reverses.  Many 
of  those  magnificent  man- 
eions  ou  Fifth  Avenue, 
which  were  built  for  the 
fast  men  of  the  street,  are 
clab  houses  now,  and  the 
names  of  their  builders 
a  ad  founders  have  already 
perished.  Not  only  from 
tbe  street,  but  from  social 
life,  these  fast  men  have 
disappeared  forever.  In 
their  ruin  they  have  car- 
ried down  their  familiea 
with  them. 

A      RniNED     UAK,    ONCE     A 
FINANCIAL  KINO. 

Every  day  I  meet  on 
Willi  Street,  a  man  who 
tiftfcen     years     ago    stood 

i  among    "the     richest    and 

[  most  honorable,  the  repre- 
reutative  ot  one  of  the  moat 
aucceasful  housea  in  the 
country.  He  seldom  looks 
to  the  right  hand  or  left. 
He  18  getting  to  be  an  old 
man  now,  but  stoops  quite 
as  much  trom  sorrow  as 
from  age.  His  dress  is  of 
the  past  generation —his 
fau:;e  collar  and  double 
cravat  speak  of  olden  time. 
Hia  atop  is  alow,  and  ho 
loaka  seedy  and  worn.  Yet 
at  one  time  he  was  one  of 
the  wealthiest  men  in  the 
country.  Hia  name  waa 
one  ol"  the  beet  known  in 
America.  It  waa  honored 
at  the  courts  abroad,  and 
stood  high  among  the  hon- 
orable merchants  of  the 
world.  He  inherited  the 
name  and  the  busincae  of 
a  house  that  through  half 
a  century  had  been  im- 
etained.  The  alow  and  aure 
method  of  gain  did  not 
auit  him;  he  tried  the  fast 
role.  To  keep  it  up,  he 
speculated  with  trust 
mjney  put  into  hia  liauda. 
Thia  did  not  meet  his  ne- 
cessities and  he  used  other 
peoples'  names  and  added 
embezzlement  and  for- 
gery. The  game  came  to 
an  end,  as  all  such  transac- 
tions must.  He  fled  be- 
tween tvvo  days,  and  wan- 
dered in  foreign  lands 
Tinder  an  assumed   name. 

Widjwa  and  orphans  were  ruined,  and  the  inno- 
cent were  dragged  down  in  his  fall.  He  lived 
abroad  as  a  fugitive.  He  found  he  was  not  pur- 
sued. He  grew  bolder,  aud  finally  appeared  in 
the  streets  of  New  York.  Nobody  meddled  with 
him.  Some  who  remembered  him  in  other  days 
and  pitied  him  give  him  a  commission  or  two  to 
eiecvite.  He  skulks  around  through  the  by-ways 
aud  narrow  lanes  of  lower  New  York  like  a  cul- 
prit, where  a  few  years  ago  he  trod  the  pave- 
ment like  a  king.  He  has  a  little  den  of  an  office, 
strange  enough,  near  the  spot  where  Aaron  Burr 
planted  himself  at  the  close  of  his  UfC;  and  tried 


to  earn  a  scanty  living,  alter  having  flung  away 
the  most  brilliant  prospect  and  "repute  that  a 
pubhc  man  ever  possessed. 

THE  TAST  HEN   AT  THE   CLUB   HOUSES. 

The  fast  men  of  the  street  can  be  found  in  the 
evening  at  some  one  of  the  many  club  houses 
established  in  the  upper  part  of  th'e  city.  These 
numerous  and  growing  institutions  are  very  un- 
like the  club  houses  of  London,  uor  have" they 
their  political  significance.  In  London  the 
club  houses  have  a  staidneas,  order,  and   aris- 


TKINTTT    C'UUBCU. 

tocracy,  that  mark  the  British  character  every- 
where". 

THE  CLUB  HOUSES,   A>T)    HOW    THEY   LTVE  THERE. 

The  New  York  club  houses  have  the  excite- 
ment cf  the  street  about  them.  They  are  fur- 
nished in  gorgeous  style.  The  most  costly  vianda 
and  the  most  exciting  and  espeuaive  liquors  are 
furnished.  Fast  New  York  spend  a  portion  of 
their  evenings  amid  the  fascinations  of  the  club. 
I^ondonera  go  to  their  clubs  to  discuss  political 
matters,  and  decide  upon  parliamentary  discue- 
aiona  or  political  agitationa.    New  Yorkers  go  to 


their  clubs  to  eat  and  drink  and  be  cscited.  A 
London  broker  will  go  up  from  Lombard  Street 
to  his  club,  take  a  cosy  corner,  and  dine  upon  a 
sober  joint  with  a  single  glass  of  sherry  or  a  mug 
of  ale.  A  New  York  broker  will  go  "to  his  club 
and  dine  oflf  from  a  bill  of  fare  that  would  be  con- 
siderpd  sufScient  for  a  court  dinner  to  crowned 
heads  or  a  banquet  at  the  Lord  Mayor's  man- 
sion. An  Enghsnman  will  ait  down  at  hia  club 
with  a  decanter  of  ■wmt  between  himself  and 
friend,  >vith  the  smallest  and  most  fragile  of  wine 
glasses  and  will  hold  a  conference  from  one  to 
four  hours,  in  a  low-toned 
voice,  discussing  mercan- 
tile and  other  matters,  and 
•will  rise  from  the  table  with 
that  single  glass  of  wine 
not  consumed.  If  touched 
at  all,  it  will  be  merely 
sipped,  from  time  to  time, 
during  the  conversation.  A 
New  \orker  will  go  to  his 
club  or  hotel,  with  the 
fever  of  businesa  etill 
coursing  through  his  veins 
— excited  from  success  or 
maddened  from  losses — 
and  before  ho  can  touch  a 
mouthful  of  food  will  call 
for  his  bottle  of  cham- 
pagfne,  infuse  into  it  au 
eff'ervescence  prepared  for 
such  excited  spirits,  and 
drain  the  contents  before 
he  touches  hia  soup.  It 
is  no  marvel  that  auch  men 
grow  gray  at  forty;  that 
premature  baldness  marks 
the  business  nun  of  New 
York;  that  only  a  few  reach 
mature  life,  and  that  many 
of  these  have  paralvsis,  the 
gout,  and  kindred  disor- 
ders: that  long  lines  of 
them  call  be  seen  e^■ery 
morning— men  made  to  be 
healthy  and  destined  to 
grow  "old — tottling  along 
with  canes  to  support  them 
and  with  an  unsteady  step, 
having  burnt  out  their 
manhood,  consumed  their 
strength,  and  prematurely 
impaired  their  health  by 
the  cxceaaes  of  their  livci!. 
No  warning  will  avail,  no 
beacons  admoniah,  but 
each  for  himself  will  strike 
his  keel  on  the  sunken 
rocks  and  hidden  shelves 
and  perish  like  a  veasel 
stranded  on  the  beach. 

A  young  man  in  this  city 
represented  a  New  Eng- 
land hoube  of  great  wealth 
and  high  standing.  He 
was  considered  one  of  the 
smartest  and  moRt  proni- 
iaing  young  men  in  New 
York.  '  The  balance  in  the 
bank  kept  by  the  house  was 
very  large,  and  the  young 
man  used  to  boast  that  ho 
could  draw  his  check  any 
day  tor  two  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  and  have  it 
honored.  The  New  Eng- 
land house  used  a  great 
deal  of  paper,  and  it  could 
command  the  names  of  the 
best  capitalists  to  any  ex- 
tent. One  gentleman,  a 
member  of  Congress,  v.as 
reputed  to  be  worth  over 
half  a  miUion  of  dollars. 
He  waa  accustomed  to  sign 
Dotes  in  blank  and  leave 
them  with  the  concern,  t<o 
much  confidence  had  he  in 
its  soundness  and  integ- 
rity. Yet,  strange  to  say, 
these  notes  with  those  of  other  wealthy  men,  with 
nearly  the  whole  financial  business  of  the  house, 
were  in  the  hands  of  the  young  manager  m 
New  York,  who,  with  none  to  check  or  control 
him,  did  as  he  pleased  with  the  funds.  Every- 
one thought  him  honest.  Every  one  confided  in 
his  inlegi-itv.  All  believed  that  ho  was  doing 
the  buaiiics'a  of  the  concern  squarely  and  with 
great  abihty. 

In  the  meanwhile  he  took  a  turn  at  Harry 
Hill'e  "to  reheve  the  presaure  of  busineBB." 
Low  amusements,  and  the  respectable  company 
he  found,  suited  him.    From   a  spectator  he 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


becaroo  a  dancer.  From  dancing  he  took  to 
drinking.  From  the  bar  ho  entored  tlioso  patlia 
,to  which  Harry  Hill's  saloon  is  the  entrance.  He 
tried  his  hand  at  light  play.  He  then  went  into 
gaming  heavily,  was  stnppod  every  night,  drink- 
ing deeply  all  tlio  while.  Ho  became  enamored 
with  i'&acj  women,  clothed  them  in  silks,  vel- 
vets, and  jewels,  drove  them  in  dashing  teams 
through  Central  Park,  seen  red  them  fine  man- 
sions, and  paid  the  expenses  of  the  establish- 
ments—all  this  while  keeping  the  contidenoo  of 
his  business  associates.  Hia  wan,  jaded,  and 
dissipated  look  went  to  his  devotion  to  business. 
Men  who  met  him  daily  had  no  idea  that  ho  was 
bankrupt  in  character,  and  had  led  tho  great 
bouse  with  which  ho  was  connected  to  the  verge 
of  ruin.  The  New  England  manager  of  the 
house  was  tho  father  of  the  young  man.  His 
reputation  was  without  a  stain,  and  confidence 
In  hia  integrity  was  unlimited.  He  had  the 
management  of  many  estates,  and  hold  large 
sums  of  trust  money  in  his  hands  belonging  to 
widows  and  orphans.  In  the  midst  of  his  busi- 
ness, in  apparent  health,  the  father  dropped 
down  dead.  This  brought  things  to  a  crisis,  and 
an  exposure  immediately  followed.  Tho  great 
house  was  bankrupt,  and  every  body  ruined  that 
had  anything  to  do  with  it.  Those  who  sup- 
posed themselves  millionaires  found  themselves 
heavily  in  debt.  Widows  and  orphans  lost  their 
all.  Men  suspended  business  on  the  right  hand 
and  on  the  left.  In  gambling,  drinking,  in  fe- 
male society,  and  in  cliseipation  generally,  this 
young  fellow  squandered 
the  great  sum  of  one  mil- 
lion four  hundred  thou-  -^' ' 
sand  dollars.  He  carried 
down  with  him  hundreds 
of  persons  whom  his  vices 
and  dissipation  had 
ruined.  And  this  is  but  a 
specimen  of  the  reverses 
to  which  a  fast  New  York 
Mife  leads.  He  may  be 
seen  any  day  reeling  about 
the  street,  1  ounging 
around  bar-rooms,  or  at- 
tempting to  steady  his 
steps  as  ho  walks  up  and 
down  the  hotel  entrances 
of  the  city.  A  sad  wreckl 
a  terrible  warning. 


heaviest  housefe  aro  very  plain.  Belmont's  bank- 
ing rooms  aro  frowning,  heavy,  B'jpulchral,  and 
aro  lighted  bv  gas  in  the  day  timo  alter  tho  En- 
glish style,  lirown  &  Brothers  welcome  custom- 
or.s  to  iron  seats  and  stone  pavements.  The  men 
of  tho  olden  timo  walked  to  their  business,  or  at 
best  took  a  street  car  or  an  omnibus. 

-■Vs  business  opens  Wall  Street  is  full  of 
coaches,  hacks  and  cabs.  As  business  draws  to 
a  close,  the  street  is  occupied  .agaiu  by  vehicles. 
Tho  new  race  of  brokers  adopt  style.  Some 
come  to  business  in  their  own  elegant  turnouts, 
witli  servants  in  livery.  Others  hire  coaches 
and  cabs,  and  ride  to  and  from  Wall  Street. 
JIany  do  this  who  are  as  poor  as  rats,  who,  if 
thev  have  five  dollars  spend  half  of  it  for  a  cab, 
and  the  other  half  for  a  lunch  at  Delmonlco's. 
They  often  borrow  this  sum.  They  go  home  to 
sleep  in  an  attic  or  a  room  in  a  tenement  house, 
and  remove  from  week  to  week  to  avoid  the  pay- 
ment of  rent.  Tho  Chancel  style,  as  it  is  called, 
In  Wall  Street,  is  a  modern  thing.  An  old 
broker,  who  had  made  his  fortune  in  prudent 
and  honest  speculations,  and  was  content  with 
his  small  den  and  green  baize  table,  left  his  busi- 
ness with  his  boys  and  went  to  Europe.  On  his 
return  ho  found  "  his  house"  in  elegant  cham- 
bers, adorned  with  costly  carpets,  plate  win- 
dows, mirrors,  magnificent  furniture,  walls  fres- 
coed in  oil,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  modern 
style.  The  merchant  was  excited  and  indignant. 
He  denounced  the  extravagance.  The  idea  of 
doing  business  in  a  counting-room  elegant  as  the 


WALL  STREET  AND  THE 
STOCK  BEOKERS. 


By  permission  of  the  J. 
B.  Burr  Publishing  Co., 
Hartford,  Conn.,  we  ex- 
tract the  following  enter- 
taining article  from  Mat- 
thew Hale  Smith's  well 
Imown  work, entitled  "  Sun- 
shine and  Shadow  in  New 
York:" 

Wall  Street  gives  its  name 
to  the  locaUty  where  the 
monied  men  of  the  city, 
milUonaires,  speculators, 
heavy  brokers,  and  leading 
financiers  have  their  headquarters.  It  means  | 
more  than  the  short  narrow  street  designated  on 
the  map  as  Wall  ?ltreet.  The  heaviest  operators 
are  not  located  on  Wall  Street  proper.  They  are 
found  on  Broad  Street,  New  Street,  Nassau, 
Pine,  Cedar,  William,  Exchange  and  oa  Broad- 

'  way.  The  Stock  Board  is  on  Broad  Street.  The 
Gold  Board  is  on  New  Street.  In  "High 
Change  "  the  surging  excited  crowd  who  throng 
the  sidewalk  and  raise  the  din  of  Babel,  are  seen 
on  Broad  Street  from  Wall  to  Pearl.  The  rooms 
and  dens  of  the  heaviest  operators  who  are  on 

•  the  street  are  oflf  from  Wall  Street.  So  are  the 
regular  Boards,  and  gathering  places  for  opera- 
tors who  are  excluded  from  the  regular  market. 
Early  in  the  morning  the  whole  street  is  quiet  as 
Broadway  on  a  Sunday.  Business  commences 
at  ten.  Business  men  come  down  in  droves. 
They  come  from  every  direction  and  locahtv. 
Full  half  of  those  who  do  business  in  Wall  Street 
live  in  Brooklyn,  Jersey  Citv,  Elizabeth,  Long 
Island,  and  up  the  river,  half  way  to  Albanv. 
The  new  style  of  business  is  very  marked.  Tlio 
old  brokers  and  speculators  were  content  with 
small  chambers,  back  rooms,  and  even  with 
dens  and  cellars,  bare  floors,  with  hard  furni- 
ture, coarse  and  without  ornament.  Dark  and 
dingy  offices  were  filled  with  the  heaviest  opera- 
tors. The  richest  men,  and  the  most  daring  in 
speculation  have  no  office  oi"  their  own.  Each 
has  one  broker,  some  several,  and  when  down 
town  these  millionaires  make  their  homes  with 
those  who  buy  and  sell  for  them.    Some  of  the 


COOPER  UNION 

chancel  of  a  church,  was  preposterous.  But 
since  the  old  broker  has  found  himself  at  home 
in  his  Fifth  Avenue  palace,  he  takes  things  more 
quietly.  Besides  Wilton  carpets,  mirrors  and 
paintings,  modern  brokers  who  maintain  style, 
set  an  elegant  lunch  at  a  cost  of  $5,000  a  year. 
To  this  their  customers  are  invited.  Loafers, 
hangers-on,  and  soldiers  of  fortune,  are  always 
ready  to  help  themselves. 

Even  fifty  years  ago,  business  in  New  Yorii  was 
very  unlike  what  it  is  now.  Men  in  mercantile 
life  went  into  business  as  apprentices  at  a  com- 
pensation ;of  $50  a  year.  Wholesale  merchants 
were  few.  Broad,  Wall  and  Pearl  Streets  were 
the  business  portions.  Porters  carried  goods  in 
their  hands,  at  a  shilling,  below  Caual  Street, 
twenty-five  cents  above.  Store  boys  were  sent 
with  goods  above  Canal  Street  to  save  cost.  The 
youngest  boy  went  to  his  master's  house  for 
the  keys  in  the  morning  to  open  the  store,  and 
returned  them  at  night.  Customers  came  to  the 
city  to  trade  four  times  a  year,  and  traders  knew 
when  to  expect  them.  Merchants  used  the  most 
rigid  economy,  and  were  their  own  salesmen, 
book-keepers,  and  bankers.  They  built  the 
front  of  their  dwellings  with  one  material,  and 
saved  a  few  hundred  dollars  by  building  the 
rear  with  a  cheaper  one.  Fifty  years  ago  there 
were  not  a  dozen  two-horse  carriages  in  New 
York.  The  city  was  compact  and  there  was  little 
use  for  them.  Above  Fourteenth  Street  was  be- 
yond the  "  lamp  district."  It  was  not  lighted  or 
policed,  and  people  had  to  take  care  of  them- 


selves. Merchants  who  bought  goods  at  auction 
obliged  their  clerks  to  take  them  home  ou  their 
shoulders  to  save  portage.  Loss  than  sixty  years 
ago,  ono  of  our  wealthiest  mcrchanla  of  to-day 
debated  with  his  brottier  whether  it  would  be 
prudent  to  pay  $35U  rent  for  a  dwelling-house. 
Yet  his  business  then  was  very  good. 

nion  cuA^^OE. 

At  ten  o  clock,  Wall  Street,  at  tho  corner  of 
Broad,  is  an  interesting  spot.  Men  rush  in  from 
all  directions.  Knots  and  cliques  gather  for  the 
contest.  Muscular  brokerage  is  at  a  premium. 
Young  roughs  are  dronsed  like  expressmen,  with 
low-crowned  hats,  docky  coats,  "  stunning " 
jewelry  and  flaming  rings.  Old  men  aro  no- 
where. At  the  Gold  Board,  youngsters  and 
clerks,  with  powers  of  attorney,  leprcsent  their 
firms.  At  the  Stock  Jiouid,  none  but  menabera 
aro  admitted.  But  oaeli  houso  lias  a  yonng 
member  who  is  trained  for  tho  contlict."  Tho 
stock  room  is  quiet  enough  during  tho  mo- 
notonous call  of  the  regular  stocks.  Members 
sit  in  elegant  chairs,  or  are  broken  up  into  httlo 
knots,  and  quietly  discuss  matters.  Tho  cock- 
pit is  empty.  But  when  an  exciting  stock  ia 
called  all  is  changed.  Members  rush  for  the  cen- 
ter of  tho  room  pell  mell.  The  crowd,  the  rush, 
the  jostle,  the  fierce  pushing,  the  clang  of  con- 
flict, is  too  much  for  old  men.  Young  men  and 
mere  boys  raise  tho  din,  buy,  soli,  loan  and  bor- 
row. Mjllions  pass  thr<nigh  their  hands  in  a 
minute.  They  tear  up  and  down  stairs,  rush  in 
and  out,  race  down  the 
street,  and  across,  and  pitch 
into  quiet  citizens  as  they 
furiously  turn  corners. 
Leading  speculators  begin 
to  gather  on  the  street. 
Each  regular  house  has  its 
patrons  and  customers.  In 
ordinary  times  speculators 
remain  in  the  office  of  their 
broker.  Plain-looking, 
cheaply  -  dressed,  commou 
appearing  men  they  are. 
Knowing  nothing  but  slocks, 
they  are  ill  at  ease.  The 
cUck  of  the  telegraph  paase.^ 
along  the  prices.  Tlie  indi- 
cator shows  the  nse  and  fail 
of  gold.  Lunch  comes  and 
goes.  Kunnera  come  in 
from  time  to  timo  with  tho 
reports.  As  stocks  go  up  or 
down,  discussions  are  car- 
ried on.  Usually  all  je  list- 
less and  without  interest. 

BULLS     AND    BEABS     IN     CON- 
FLICT. 

One  class  of  brokers  bare 
stocks  to  sell.  They  resor: 
to  evciy  means  to  advance 
tho  price.  They  aro  called 
Bulls.  Anotlier  class  have 
stocks  to  buy.  They  resort 
to  all  sorts  of  schemes  to 
send  stocks  down.  These 
are  Bears.  When  men  come 
in  conflict  in  the  street. 
Wall  Street  is  a  scene  of  great  excitement.  When 
it  is  known  that  a  contest  is  to  take  place,  the 
Gold  Boom  is  thronged.  This  room  is  a  very 
shabby-looking  place,  as  offensive  as  the  Stock 
Room  is  elegant.  A  few  chairs,  very  common 
ones,  are  in  the  building.  The  maddened  throng 
have  no  time  to  sit.  A  strip  of  gallery  occupies 
one  side  of  the  room,  and  is  crowded  with  spec- 
tators. A  heavy  board  partition  keeps  out  in- 
truders from  the  Exchange.  The  center,  which 
is  lower  than  the  rest  of  the  room,  is  called  the 
pit.  la  the  middle  is  a  massive  table,  oblong  in 
shape,  to  keep  the  operators  from  trampling 
each  other  to  death  in  the  excitement.  A  surg- 
ing crowd,  yelling,  screaming,  gesticulating, 
stamping,  fill  every  portion  of  the  room.  One 
cool  person  occupies  a  seat  above  the  din  of  the 
conflict.  He  is  calm  amid  the  tempest  and 
storm.  He  touches  a  bell  and  the  turmoil  sub- 
sides. In  a  moment  the  sale  of  gold  is  an- 
nounced on  all  sides  of  the  rooms  and  sent  quiv- 
ering over  the  wires  to  the  various  offices  in  the 
city.  Many  dealers  have  no  connection  with  the 
telegraph.  Communication  is  made  to  these  by 
ninners.  The  messengers  crowd  tlie  avenues  to 
the  Gold  Room,  fill  vestibules  and  aisles  and  aid 
to  keep  up  the  excitement.  The  bell  of  the 
President  announces  the  sale  of  gold,  and  thes:- 
parties  start  on  the  run.  Tearing  down  th  ■ 
street,  rushing  into  alleys,  darting  jnlo  doorwavs 
they  carry  the  news  to  their  employers.  6ld 
men,  fat  men,  tall  men,  professor-like  lookiua: 
men  lu  Rpectacles,  men  looking  wonderfully  ht»' 


lO 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


clcrgyiueu  without  a  pariah,  and  boys,  are  all  on 
the  ran. 

At  such  times  a  broker's  office  is  a  suggestive 
place.  The  crowd  is  so  dense  at  times  outside 
that  teams  cannot  drive  through  the  street. 
Some  brokers  have  a  strong  guard  of  police 
around  their  offices.  Inside  the  offices  are  very 
exciting.  The  wildest  rumors  fly  about.  Banks, 
heavy  houses,  and  wealthy  men  are  said  to  be 
going  under.  The  slain  and  wouaded  are  seen 
— men  who,  ten  days  before,  could  count  their 
bank  balance  by  tens  and  hundreds  of  thousands, 
by  a  single  stroke  have  been  completely  "  cleaned 
out,"  and  are  left  without  money  enough  to  buy 
a  luuch.  In  the  room  some  rail  like  mad  men; 
■others  walk  the  floor,  snap  their  fingers,  knit 
their  brows,  shake  their  heads,  and  mutter 
threats.  Others  m  silence  look  at  a  particular 
«pot  on  the  floor,  and  pay  no  attention  to  the 
mad  throng  rushing  in  and  out.  A  young  man, 
not  thirty,  with  an  exhausted  look  and  sad 
countenance,  in  answer  to  the  remark — "  The 
vagabonds  have  completely  cleaned  you  out," 
«aid:  "  Yes,  I  am  $150,000  worse  than  nothing. 
But  that  is  not  the  worst  of  it.  I  am  ten  years 
older  than  I  was  ten  days  ago."  During  this 
scene  the  telegraph  holds  on  its  way  announcing 
the  panic  in  stocks.  A  comment  or  two  will  be 
heard  on  each  tumble.  "Oh!  that  is  Meigg's 
stock.  Pity  that  old  house  has  gone  down." 
Another  tumble.  "  That  is  Lockwood.  The  Pa- 
cific mail  did  that." 

Beyond  Wall  Street,  and 
Taeyond  the  broker's  offices.  .^^r-^ 

the  movement  of  Bulls  and 
Bears  carries  disaster. 
Alarm  spreads  through  the 
city.  Large  houses  reel, 
and  small  ones  totter  down. 
The  entire  business  of  the 
country  is  at  the  mercy  of  a 
few  reckless  men.  Shrink- 
ages in  dry  goods  stores 
produce  ruin.  Money  tak- 
•«n  out  of  circulation  tight- 
«n8  the  market,  and  men 
,  -who  borrow  have  to  pay 
[  from  90  to  365  per  cent.,  for 
'  without  money  merchants 
cannot  do  business  long. 

The  new  mode  of  doing 
business  intensities  the  ex- 
citement of  Wall  Street. 
Stock  operators  have  their 
brokers,  as  business  men 
have  their  banks.  Vander- 
bilt  had  no  office  on  Wall 
Street.  He  was  seldom 
there.  Yet  he  was  one  of 
the  heaviest  operators.  He 
had  a  legion  of  runners 
"who  bought  for  him  whil"- 
he  sat  in  his  little  room  m 
Tourth  Street:  he  bought  ;i 
silence  and  no  oue  con: 
track  him.  Drew  had 
little  den  ot  a  room  in  tL 
third  story  of  a  building,  to 
■which  he  retired  when  he 
■wished  to  be  aloue.  Ho 
could  generally  be  fouud 
:in  the  office  of  Liis  principal 

broker,    sitting   on   a   bench   dozing,  or    sound 
a,9leep.     Formerly,  to  fill  an  order  brokers  at- 
tended the  Stock  Board  in  person  and  watched 
the    market.     Now    they    sit    iu    their    elegant 
rooms,  and  communicate  by  telegraph,  or  give  a 
4}uiet  order  to  incseengers  who  disappear  and 
make  the  purchase.     There  is  very  little  talking 
in  a  broker's  office  during  business  hours.     The 
looms  are  usually  crowded.     Every  click  of  the 
niaohiue  carries"  fortune  or  ruin  to  some  one. 
Men  get  up,  sit  down,  look  out  of  the  window, 
walk  out  ol  the  door,  walk  back,  smoke,  go  out, 
I  take   a   driuk,  discuss   the   chances,   pull   their 
I  liair,  whistle,  slap  their  hands,  or  break  out  in 
'  abrupt  expletives.     Outside,  iu   stirring   times, 
men   are   quite   as   excited.     One    day   a   large 
crowd  gathered  in  Wall  Street.    The  central  fig- 
ure was  a  well  known  operator  in  Clique  Stocks. 
It  is  said  that  he  has  made  and  lost  more  money 
in  speculations  than  any  other  man  in  New  York 
except  Jacob  Little.     He  was  iu  the  middle  of 
the   street,   hat  oflf,  face   flushed,  coat    thrown 
back,  gesticulating  with  his  hands,  following  a 
Tvell-known   locker-up  of  greenbacks,  and  was 
ishouting:     "  There    goes    Shylock!     What's  the 
price  of  money,  Shylock?    What's  the  price  of 
money?"    The   shouting,  and   the    exciteineut 
•called  all  heads  to  the  windows  and  filled  the 
street  with  the  rabble,  that  followed  the  parties 
several  blocks.    The    man  who  was    shouting 
*'  Shylock,"  was  one  of  the  coolest,  most  self- 
possessed  of  men  usually.     The  man   attacked 


was  a  tall,  eUm,  fine  looking  person,  very  sUght- 
ly  moved  by  the  assault.  "What's  the  price  of 
Erie,  Dick  ?  "  "  What's  the  price  of  Hudson  ?  " 
was  the  response. 

HOW  STOCKS  ABE  BOUGHT   AXD  SOIiD. 

The  present  style  of  business  in  the  street 
enables  a  man,  with  a  very  small  sum  ot  money, 
to  do  a  verv  large  business.  With  $1,000  he  can 
purchase  $10,000  worth  of  stock.  With  $10,000 
he  can  purchase  $100,000.  He  leaves  his  order 
with  the  broker,  puts  up  his  "margin  "  and  his 
stock  is  bought  and  carried  for  him.  The 
broker  can  well  afford  to  do  this.  He  is  per- 
fectly safe,  for  be  has  the  stocks  and  the  margin 
aa  protection.  He  has  every  motive  to  induce 
his  customers  to  buy  largely.  He  gets  the  inter- 
est on  his  money  and  a  commission  for  buying 
and  selling.  As  his  commission  is  only  $12.50  on 
$10,000,  he  must  do  a  large  business"  to  make 
anything.  When  men  buy  two  milUons  of  stock 
the  commissions  amount  to  something.  The  bet- 
ter class  of  brokers  are  not  ■willing  to  have  cus- 
tomers who  cannot  back  up  their  sales.  It  is 
troublesome  to  have  to  watch  the  market,  and  it 
is  unpleasant  to  sell  a  customer  out.  As  the 
stock  falls,  if  buyers  do  not  keep  their  margin 
good,  the  broker  must  protect  himself  by  selling 
the  stock,  and  using  up  the  money  deposited. 

Immense  sums  of  money  are  sent  into  the 
street  from  outsiders,  who,  because  they  have 
been  successful  m  dry  goods,  and  other  branches 


and  regular  houses  do  as  legitimate  a  business 
as  is  done  bv  anv  department  of  trade  in  New 
York. 


THE   TOMBS. 

of  trade,  think  they  can  turn  $50,000  into  $100,- 
000  iu  the  street  as  easily  as  thev  can  draw  a 
check.  In  ume  cases  out  often  all  such  invest- 
ments are  lost.  Brokersof  course  get  customers 
where  they  can  find  them.  A  man  iu  a  success- 
ful dry  goods  trade  sends  down  a  check  with  an 
order  to  buy  a  hundred  shares  of  a  named 
stock,  and  tocarry  it  thirty  days.  The  stock  be- 
gins to  go  down.  "More  margin  is  called  lor.  A 
sudden  failure  in  a  mercantile  house  tells  the 
story.  The  other  day  a  merchant  called  upon  a 
broter  in  Wall  Street,  handed  him  $50,000,  and 
asked  him  to  invest  it  in  a  stock  named.  "  I 
will  do  so,  if  you  wish,"  said  the  broker,  "  but  I 
advise  you  to  Uike  a  good  look  at  your  monev. 
for  you  will  never  see  it  again.  I  have  been  in 
business  in  Wall  Street  thirty -eight  years.  Dur- 
ing that  time  98  out  of  every  100  who  have  put 
money  in  the  street  have  lost  it."  Gamblers  in 
stock  and  in  gold  are  usually  outsiders.  They 
arc  the  class  who  speculate  in  lota,  in  flour, 
pork,  and  coal.  Men  who  make  "  corners,"  or 
try  to  make  them,  are  model  merchants,  princely 
traders,  large  donors  to  philanthropic  institu- 
tions, stand  high  iu  society,  and  preside  on  the 
boards  of  religious  and  reformatory  meetings. 
These  men  Bull  and  Bear  stock,  "make  mer- 
chants tremble,  increase  the  price  of  the  poor 
man's  coal,  lay  a  heavier  tax  on  every  ounce  of 


&ALIBLEES  AND  GAMBLING  DENS. 

NrNE-TESTHS  of  the  population  of  the  great  city 
of  New  York  have  but  a  small  conception  of  the 
number  of  gambling  dens  iu  operation,  or  of  the 
vast  amount  of  money  daily  squandered  in  this 
way.  Under  the  very  eyes  of  the  police  the 
gamblers  prosecute  their  nefarious  calling,  and 
scores  of  men  of  all  ages  are  daily  enticed  into 
these  disreputable  dens  and  invariably  ruined. 

Mr.  Nathan  D.  Urner,  a  journalist  of  this  city, 
gave,  some  years  ago,  in  the  Kew  York  Weekly, 
the  following  graphic  pen-picture  of  the  gammg 
table: 

In  the  summer  of  '65,  I  was  engaged,  by  a 
Bouovolent  Institution,  to  write  a  pamphlet  upon 
the  gamblers  and  gambling  houses  of  New  York, 
which,  inasmuch  as  it  involved  considerable  sta- 
tistical statementa,  required  extraordmary  pre- 
Uminary  research. 

It  was  duriug  that  period  following  the  close 
of  the  war  and  the  assassination  of  President 
Lincoln,  when  the  moral  atmosphere  ot  the 
country  was  in  that  peculiarly  uncertain,  almost 
chaohc,  couditiou  incidental  to  a  great  pohtical 
reaction. 
The  rapid  increase  of  the  evil  of  gamblmg  was 
one  of  the  most  promment 
■^  of  the  darker  features,  and 

=  ^^  the  one  which  it  was  the 

chief  object  of  my  literary 
mission  to  arrest,  by  the 
compilation  of  a  truthful 
and  accurate  account. 

It  was  at  the  time  esti- 
mated by  the  police  author- 
ities that  the  number  of 
gambling  resorts — includ- 
ing the  games  of  Faro, 
Keno,  Boulette,  and  the 
res  t— h  a  d  more  than 
doubled  in  the  metropolis 
within  a  period  of  twelve 
months. 

Keno  was  especially  the 
"rage"  among  a  certain 
class  at  that  time,  and  I 
had,  through  my  personal 
acquaintance  with  the  pro- 
prietor (who,  by  the  way. 
was  a  kind-hearted  and 
amiable  man,  despite  his 
vocation),  selected  a  well- 
known    establishment    o  n 

Broadway,  just  above 

Place,  as'  my  chief  point  of 
observation,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  taking  notes. 

It  IS  immaterial  to  de- 
scribe the  mystery  of  en- 
trance, the  ingenious  meth- 
ods adopted  to  avoid  in- 
trusion on  the  part  of  un- 
wish»d-for-vi8itors,  etc. 

The  rooms  themselves 
were  gorgeously  furnished. 
They  containecl  all  the  al- 
lurements of  voluptuous  pictures,  luxurious 
statues,  "  free  lunch,"  perpetually  and  elegantly 
served,  and  every  other  inducement  for  both  the 
incipient  and  the"  veteran  gambler;  while  from  a 
distant  chamber,  separated  from  the  rest  bv 
green-baize,  listed  doors,  day  and  night,  and  all 
night  long,  came  the  rattling  whirl  of  the  Keno 
cylinder,  the  steady  call  of  the  dealer,  and,  at 
irregular  intervals,  the  triumphant  call  of 
"  Keno,"  which  proclaimed  the  success  of  one 
or  another  of  the  earnest  slaves  who  surrounded 
the  gaming-board.  • 

The  game  itself  maybe  readily  described.  It 
is  simply  the  child's"  game  of  "  Loto,"  which 
most  of  us  were  familiar  with  in  days  gone  by. 
An  upright  cylinder— keg-UUe  in  shape,  usually 
of  elegantlv-carved  rosewood  or  mahogany,  and 
placed  between  two  small  posts— contains  a 
number  of  round  dice,  or  ivory  balls,  each  of 
which  has  its  appropriate  number  in  plain  black 
indentation.  The  dealer  sits  at  the  side  of  this 
cvlinder,  and  whirls  it  round.  At  every  revolu- 
tion one  of  the  little  balls  falls  from  the  bottom 
of  the  cylinder,  and  is  caught  in  the  hand  of  the 
dealer,  who  calbi  off  its  number,  and  then  places 
it  in  a  velvet  nitch  (correspondingly  numbered) 
of  an  open  case  placed  at  his  left  hand. 

Surrounding  a  long  table,  just  below  and  just 
in  front  of  the  small  platform  on  which  the  dealer 


bread   the   laboring  man   eate,  and    ruin  small  j  or  "caller-off"  is  seated,  sit  the  gamblers  mi - 

traders.    These  men  produce  the  panics  of  the    mersed  in  the  game.  • 

day,  and  not  the  brokers.    Brokers  fill  orders,  '     Before  each  is  placed  a  large  square  of  paste- 


THK   GREAT   EMPIRE    CITY. 


13 


boaid  chosen  at  will  irom  a  pack  placed  in  the 
middle  of  the  table,  aud  a  uuinb(,r  ol'  little  ^lass 
fragiKonte  about  half  an  inch  Bquare.  The  latter 
are  UHed  aa  counters.  Each  card  contains  four 
rowB  of  li^urcs.     For  instance  thus: 


46- 

■IS          '17 

10 

24     —       1—30 
_     50     —     12    — 

9     ..     ■2S     —     40 

—  20        14     : 
13     —           5     ■ 

—  12          8     : 

As  soon  aa  the  dealer  calls  the  number  corre- 
sponding to  the  one  on  the  card,  the  player 
jDvers  that  number  with  a  glass  counter.  When 
he  gets  all  the  numbers  ou  one  horizontal  lino 
eovered  in  this  way,  ho  calls  out  "  keno,"  and 
the  stakes,  whatever  they  are,  are  his. 

If  the  "  auto,"  or  pool,  is  one  dollar  a  piece, 
the  amount  is  considerable  where  the  players  are 
Quracrous;  but  it  is  often  much  more. 

Ten  per  cent,  of  the  winnings  are  turned  into 
the  bank,  which  thus  receives  a  steady  income, 
notwithstanding  the  luck,  good  or  bad,  of  the 
players. 

In  this  respect  it  may  be  called  a  "fairer" 
game  than  faro,  or  roulette,  since  the  oppor- 
tunities of  making  a  "  skin-game"  (i.  e.,  a  game 
unfair  against  the  player)  are  little  or  nothing; 
while,  at  the  same  time,  the  "  bank  "  has  a  surety 
of  its  ten  per  cent.,  and  is,  therefore,  safer  as  an 
investment  of  capital.  When  carried  on  upon 
the  "  square,"  as  they  usually  term  it,  keno  is, 
consequently,  a  surer  profit  for  its  proprietor, 
and  fare  a  greater  fascination  lor  the  player,  ou 
account  of  the  latter  affording  opportunities  for 
calculation  and  combinations,  wmch  may  some- 
times break  the  bank.  This  is  on 
the  presumption  that  the  game  be 
perlectly  "  square; "  lor,  of 
course,  in  a  cheating  game  of  any 
kind,  the  fighter  ot  tiie  "  tiger  "  is 
always  bound  to  lose  in  the  end. 

I  had  frequented  the  keno  es- 
tablishment of  which  I  first  made 
mention  many  nighis  in  succes- 
sion, in  the  pursuit  of  my  note- 
taking  project,  and  had  ca'refuUy 
studieil  the  characters  ol  the 
place. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  was 
a  young  man,  who,  from  his  gen- 
eral appearance  and  manner,  en- 
chained my  interest  and  sympathy 
from  the  start. 

His  ago  was  twenty-eight  or 
thirty.  Ho  was  singularly  hand- 
some, taciturn  and  melancholy. 
Eyes  large,  brown,  and  beautiful; 
face  delicately  cut  in  every  fea- 
ture; and  but  for  the  faintly-lined 
dark  moustache,  as  soft  aud  da- 
mask as  a  woman's,  though  utter- 
ly bloodless — pallid  as  a  ghost's. 
He  was  always  dressed  with  irre- 
proachable taste  and  neatness, 
and  there  was  a  silent  pohteness 
and  grace  in  his  manner  which 
was  singularly  attractive.  He  had 
a  ruddy  scar  on  his  left  temple, 
and  I  noticed  when  I  first  saw  him  that  the  little 
finger  of  hie  left  hand  was  gone. 

I  mention  these  particulars  because  many  will 
recognize,  in  the  tragic  end  of  the  principal  sub- 
ject of  this  sketch,  the  identity  of  the  person  in 
question. 

He  came  to  the  Keno  House  regularly  every 
night,  invariably  staid  till  the  bank  closed— which 
seldom  happened  before  dayhght— and  almost 
always  lost.  Bun  it  up  to  what  amount  they 
might,  he  never  refused  the  stake,  and  he  lost 
with  a  run  of  bad  luck  which  was  something  re- 
markable. His  manner  of  playing  was  swift, 
nervous  and  excited,  though  except — at  rare  in- 
'  tervals- he  never  opened  his  lips  but  to  say 
"  keno."  The  beauty  of  his  face  and  form,  his 
bloodless  countenance,  his  strange  silentness, 
and  his  utter,  mysterious  absorption  in  the  game, 
early  attracted  my  attention,  and  there  was  a  pe- 
culiar far-away  look  in  his  eyes  for  which  I  could 
not  account.  But  my  curiosity  regarding  him, 
though  insatiable,  was  never  gratified.  Once  I 
accosted  huu.  Though  there  was  nothmg 
offensive  in  his  silent,  staring  rebuff,  it  was, 
nevertheless,  decisive,  and  I  refrained  from  a 
second  attempt. 

"  He  has  been  coming  here  for  months,"  the 
proprietor  said  to  me,  "  but  I  can  make  nothing 
out  of  him.  J  think  he  hails  from  Cincinnati. 
Sometimes  he  has  a  streak  of  luck,  but  latelv  he 
has  lost  heavily.    But  he  is  always  on  hand." 

One  night,  after  I  had  absented  myself  for  a 
number  of  weeks  from  the  keno  bank,  and  had 
aearly  completed  the  data  for  mv  prospective 
pamphlet,  I.again  entered  the  apartments.    It 


was  very  lato,  and  upwards  of  thirty  plavers 
were  deeply  absorbf^l  in  the  ganre."  '^' Click, 
chcli,"  sounded  the  rattling  balls  as  the  cylinder 
was  whirled  by  tlio  dealer,  whoso  regular,  mou- 
otouons  call  of  the  numbor— interspersed  at  in- 
tervals with  the  Hliari),  satisfactory  cry  ol 
'  keno,"  was  tlio  voice  of  the  scene;  and  there  I 
saw  the  familiar  figure  of  young  JI.  His  "'luck" 
—I  wonder  if  there  is  such  a  thing — had  changed. 
The  stakes  were  very  largo,  and  he  had  already 
won  heavily.  Aheap  of  bills  amounting  to  thou- 
sands lay  before  him,  and  still  the  tide  of  fortune 
flung  the  money  into  his  lap. 

At  length  the  remainder  of  the  party — many  of 
them  out  ol  lunds  and  all  of  them  tired  of  a  con- 
tinned  strain  of  ill-luck — proposed  a  temporary 
adjournnient  for  refreshment,  and  alter  this  a 
game  of  "  poker  "  was  got  up,  in  winch  young 
M.  joined.  This  was  an  entirely  different  game, 
and  throughout  he  was  systematically  swindled. 
At  first  he  won,  then  lost  steadily.  He  grew  very 
nervous  as  the  game  proceeded. 

"  If  you  will  only  leave  mo  alone,  Annie,"  said 
he,  turning  his  head ,  "  I  may  make  enough  to  get 
us  out  of  our  trouble." 

Every  one  was  astonished,  for  there  was  no  one 
at  his  side.  His  words  appeared  to  be  directed 
to  a  creature  of  the  air.  Beside,  he  had  never 
spoken  so  many  words  during  the  months  he  had 
frequented  the  rooms. 

"  Whom  are  you  talking  to?  "  said  a  gambler 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  table.  "There  is 
no  one  near  you." 

He  heeded  not  the  questioner,  but  still  spoke 
absently,  though  excitedly,  with  his  head  turned, 
I  as  If  addressing  an  invisible  being:  | 


as  useless  except  those  of  M.  and  the  col  1- 
blooded  veteran  who  sat  immediately  op(>(iBit& 
to  him.  I  noticed  a  feverish  Hush  of  joy  on  iiie 
cheek  of  tlio  former. 

"  I  will  go  you  better  t(j  the  extent  of  luy  nug." 
said  he.  "  It's  all  I  have,  or  1  would  go  deeper." 
"  IXmc." 

JI.  threw  up  three  kings. 

His  opponent  displayed  a  couple  of  aces,  uad 
then  for  a  single  instant,  held  auoUier  card  Bi  hi« 
hand. 

It  was  but  the  turning  ofa  card;  butin  itstiirri 
was  involved  the  dcstinv  ofa  human  eonl. 
The  card  fell. 

It  was  another  ace,  and  the  ring  was  lost. 
M.  arose  from  the  table  with  apparent  uncon- 
cern, and,  as  the  game  still  proceeded,  sealed 
luineelf  at  a  small  table,  aud  ordered'  r<;frt'BU- 
nienis.  While  waiting  for  them  he  took  a  pack 
of  cards  from  his  pocket,  scattered  them  before^ 
him  in  an  absent  way,  and  then  leaned  his  bead 
thoughtfully  upon  his  homd. 

I  turned  my  head  from  him,  and  turned  mv 
eyes  listlessly  upon  the  game,  though  my  minil 
was  occupied  with  thinking  of  the  strange  con- 
duct of  the  ruined  and  mysterious  gambler. 

We  heard  a  sudden  shot- close,  neai  and 
startling. 

M.  was  still  at  the  table;  but  with  his  head 
a-drop,  and  a  still-smoking  pistol  grasped  in  his 
hand  that  fell  carelessly  and  motionless  at  hia 
side. 

Wo  surrounded  him  at  once;  but  he  was  quite 
dead — shot  through  the  heart. 

Wo   afterward  examined  the   plain  gold  rit'g 
(M.'e  last  stake  upon  the  "  turning  of  a  card  ''> 
and  found  engraved  on  the  inside. 
:.  "To    Annie,    viy     Bride,    from, 

Oeorge  M.'' 

The  story  of  the  suicide  was  but 
bi-iefly  reported  in  the  news- 
papers, and  the  particulars  wer 
never  given  to  the  public;  but  the 
strange  and  remarkable  details  1 
have  narrated  will  be  remembered 
by  many  of  the  profession. 


WALL  STSEET  POINTERS. 


LTJDLOW  STREET  JAIL. 

'•  I  tell  yoii  I  can  yet  save  the  estate,  and  you 
and  mother,  and  all  of  us,  on  the  mere  turning  ot 
a  card,  and  this  is  a  good  game.  I  have  studied 
it  thoroughly  and  know  my  play,  if  you  won't 
whisper  in  my  ear." 

They  evidently  considered  him  demented,  but 
he  said  no  more  and  the  game  went  on. 

M.  played  like  an  infatuated  automatom.  He 
lost  all  his  money;  staked  his  watch — lost  that; 
put  up  a  diamond-cluster  ring,  and  lost  that.  He 
evidently  had  nothing  more  of  value,  but  a  plain 
gold  ring  which  hooped  the  third  finger  of  his 
left  baud.  It  was  heavy  and  bright,  but  not 
great  in  value.  He  hesitated  as  if  in  a  kind  of 
trance. 

"  Are  you  going  to  '  ante?'"  said  one  of  his  fel- 
low players,  coolly. 

"Yes.  How  milch  will  you  let  me  put  up  for 
this  ?  "  and,  with  a  quick,  convulsive  movement, 
he  drew  the  plain  ring  trom  his  finger,  and  held 
it  up  to  the  light. 

"  Twenty  dollars." 

The  trinket  wasn't  worth  half  so  much;  but 
even  gamblers,  when  flushed  with  unusual  suc- 
cess, are  generous. 

We  all  watched  him  curiously,  for,  before  be 
let  the  ring  drop  into  the  pool  from  his  hesitating 
hand,  be  again  turned  his  head  to  the  person 
whom  he  apparently  imagined  to  be  at  his  side, 
and  said: 

"  This  is  my  last  chance,  and  I  am  sure  to  win 
upon  the  turning  of  a  card.  What  if  it  was  our 
wedding  ring  ?  It  is  the  last  chance.  Now  don't 
bother  me,  Annie." 

The  game  went  on.  All  bands  were  thrown  up 


The  ruling  passion  of  Wall 
Street  18  togetmoney.  Incidental 
to  and  inseparable  from  it  is  the 
desii-e  for  news.  It  is  a  perfectly 
natural  desire,  for  the  stock  mar- 
ket, which  is  the  most  volatile 
market  in  the  world,  responds  to 
everv  rumor  and  report,  and,  in 
the  long  run,  to  facte.  In  Wall 
Street  knowledge  is  not  only 
power,  but  it  is  wealth,  providics 
one  can  know  a  thing  before 
everybody  else  does.  The  eager- 
ness to  obtain  news  is  more  ap- 
parent than  the  greed  for  money. 
The  plainest  proof  of  this  is  ob- 
servable in  the  daily  and  constant 
gi'eetings  of  speculators,  brokers, 
and  the  host  of  attaches  of  the 
street.  They  do  not,  upon  meeting,  inquire  in 
the  usual  perfunctory  way  as  to  health,  but  with 
unfeigned  expectation  ask:  "  What  do  yon 
hear  ?  "  or  "  What  do  you  think  of  things  ?  "  and 
"  How  is  the  market  going?  "  The  first  inquiry 
is  for  information,  opinion,  or  theory  either 
about  the  market,  a  particular  stock,  or  the  ac- 
tion of  some  large  operator.  The  average  specu- 
lator wants  to  operate  on  facts.  He  generally 
convinces  himself  that  he  is  doing  so.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact  he  is  influenced  by  rumors,  hearsay, 
and  lies  as  much  and  as  often  as  he  is  by  facts. 
If  he  buys  a  stock  or  sells  one  he  does  so  upot. 
information  or  belief,  and,  having  entered  iipoc, 
an  operation,  he  is  alert  for  news  or  gossip  abour 
what,  for  the  moment,  is  his  pet  security.  In- 
variably an  abundance  of  material  is  offered  to 
appease  his  appetite,  but,  unfortunately  for  him, 
it  18  not  often  of  the  right  kind. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  newspapers  do  not  fally 
satisfy  this  voracious  appetite  for  news.  The- 
principal  dailies  whose  reputation  for  accuracy 
is  established  furnish  the  speculator  with  simply 
tlio  solid  facts,  which  are  frequently  known  iii 
the  street  hours  before  the  publication  of  a  morn- 
ing paper,  and  are  always  utilized  by  insiders 
long  before  they  are  formally  made  public.  Ru- 
mors and  reports  for  which  there  is  no  founda- 
tion— and  tbey  spring  up  on  eveiy  side  in  Wall 
Street  every  day — find  no  place  in  the  papers 
most  respected  in  the  street  unless  the  circula- 
tion of  them  produced  some  noteworthy  move- 
ment in  the  market.  In  that  case  they  are 
noticed  for  their  effect,  or  for  denial. 
The  speculative  body  does  not  snflfer,  however 


12 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


for  want  of  variety,  despite  the  simple,  legiti- 
mate, and  Boinewhiat  rigid  diet  offered  it  by  the 
leaders  of  the  press. 

Half  a  dozen  daily  journals  devoted  wholly  or 
in  part  to  Wall  Street  intelligence  furnish  mate- 
rial that,  for  variety  and  uoveltj-,  ought  to  satisfy 
the  most  eccentric. 

The  demand  for  special  and  quick  information 
has  also  given  rise  to  several  news  agencies  that 
distribute  throughout  the  day  all  sorts  of  facte 
and  fancies,  includmg  railroad  earnings,  foreign 
and  other  out-of-town  market  quotations,  gen- 
eral news,  rumors,  gossip,  and  opinions.  These 
range  from  expressions  attributed  to  the  leaders 
in  the  street  to  those  of  "  a  promment  broker  " 
or  "  a  well-known  banker." 

But  all  these  contributions  do  not  satisly  the 
speculator.  If  the  material  that  is  furnished 
him  corresponds  with  his  own  views,  or  is  favor- 
able to  his  operations,  it  gratifies  him,  and  he  is 
inclined  to  beUeve  it— as  a  rule  accepts  it  as  gos- 
pel. If  it  is  adverse  to  his  plans  and  hopes  he 
doubts  it,  and  finally  disbeUeves  it.  What  the 
stock  gambler  wants  more  than  anything  else  is 
information  that  nobody  else  has.  This  desire 
has  nurtured  and  reared  a  large  and  smgular 
class  about  the  Stock  Exchange.  Uncle  Uafus 
Hatch,  in  one  of  his  happy  moods,  characterized 
them  some  years  ago  as  ''  pointers."  The  name 
was  apparently  considered  appropriate,  for  it 
has  stuck  to  the  per- 
sons alluded  to.  He 
briefly  described  a 
pointer  as  a  person 
who,  without  risking 
any  of  his  own  capi- 
tal, if  indeed  he  has 
any,  persuades  some 
one  to  operate  in  the 
market  for  joint  ac- 
count upon  the  al- 
leged information 
that  he  furnishes. 
According  to  Uncle 
Kutiis,  t  h  e  Simon- 
pure  pointer  manu- 
factures the  informa- 
.tion  he  retails.  His 
information  upon  a 
certain  stock  la,  ac- 
■cordiug  to  hia  own 
:accouut,  most  trust- 
worthy and  bullish, 
and  upon  a  circum- 
stantial narration  of 
it  he  persuades  some 
one  to  buy  a.  hundred 
shares  or  more  for 
their  joint  profit,  the 
purchaser  to  assume 
all  loss,  it  any.  At 
the  same  time  he 
persuades  some  one 
else  to  sell  the  same 
titock  upon  his  exclu- 
sive and  positive  in- 
formation that  it  is 
going  to  decline.  He 
is  of  course  sore  to 
■win  in  one  case  or 
the  other,  and  he  can 
console  the  victim 
■who  loses  with  talk 

that  he  himself  had  been  misled,  or  that  the  | 
echemo  he  was  advised  ol — in  his  mind — miscar- 
ried. This  undoubtedly  is  the  method  of  the  | 
unscrupulous  pointer.  Simple  and  barefaced 
2LH  it  is,  there  is  no  question  that  it  has  been  i 
-worked  successfully  many  times.  The  average  1 
newcomer  is  likely  game  for  the  pointer  who  | 
operates  on  this  basis. 

But  the  man  who  expects  to  continue  in  the  I 
■'vismess  of  giving  points  and  to  make  a  livmg 
out  of  it  pursues  a  more  business-like  and  hon- 
est course.  He  has  to  make  his  money  out  of 
people  of  more  or  less  experience  in  the  street, 
and  ho  must  furnish  them  with  information  of 
some  value  in  order  to  induce  them  to  make  an 
operation  for  Ids  benefit,  or  otherwise  pay  him 
for  hia  news. 

While  the  pointer,  like  everybody  else,  occa- 
sionally gets  hold  of  a  good  bit  of  information 
bearing  upon  a  particular  stock  or  the  general 
market,  he  must  to  a  groat  extent  (all  back  upon 
his  imagiuatiuu  and  theories  and  the  opinions  of 
others.  When  he  gives  a  point,  however,  he  is 
pretty  positive  that  he  is  relating  facta.  That 
the  occupation  pays,  or  at  least  afford)  means  of 
■existence  to  those  who  engage  in  it,  is  evident 
from  the  many  faces  that  are  familiar  in  New 
Street,  and  have  been  for  years,  whose  possess- 
ors are  known  to  have  done  nothing  else  since 
tliflp-  appeared  in  the  speculative  CDimnunity. 
As  &  coutiugeut  of  tho  army  of  gamblcra  thev 


may  be  styled  as  guerilla  scouts.  In  the  ex- 
pressive tocabulary  of  Commodore  Vanderbilt 
they  would  doubtless  be  defined  under  the  term 
'■suckers."  Each  of  the  score  and  more  of 
idlers  generally  acknowledged  as  pomters  who 
may  be  seen  at  any  hour  of  the  day  about  the 
Stock  Exchange,  and  principally  in  New  Street, 
has  a  history.  It  is  part  of  their  stock  in  trade. 
They  will  not  tell  you  all  of  it,  but  if  they  con- 
template pointing  you  they  will  tell  you  somuch 
as  they  may  deem  necessary  to  convince  you 
that  their  previous  or  present  connections  "are 
such  as  to  enable  them  to  get  the  information 
they  impart.  According  to  their  several  ac- 
counts, one  is  an  ex-employee  of  a  trunk  line 
railroad,  and  has  facilities  for  getting  at  tho  se- 
crets of  its  finances  and  management;  another 
is  an  ex-telegraph  operator,  who  obtains  from 
his  former  associates  the  contents  of  messages 
that  have  been  sent  or  received  by  large  oper- 
ators; a  third  is  related  to  some  well-known  offi- 
cer of  a  corporation,  from  \vhom  he  gets  the 
most  trustworthy  information;  another  has  per- 
tormed  some  great  service  for  one  of  the  leaders 
in  the  market,  and  received  a  valuable  point  in 
return;  this  one  was  once  in  partnership  with 
somebody  who  is  now  a  power  in  the  street,  and 
from  whom  he  gets  in  confidence,  now  and  then, 
a  valuable  tip  on  the  market;  that  one  is  the 
bosom  friend  of  a  great  capitaUst'a  confidential 


THE  OBikKD  CEN'rR.U.  DEPOT. 

man;  and  so  on  through  the  list.  They  always 
have  a  plausible  reason  for  knowing  what  they 
want  you  to  operate  upon.  They  profess  to 
have  overheard  orders  that  have  been  given; 
conversations  between  the  great  men  of  the 
street;  to  have  read  from  the  instrument  im- 
portant dispatches,  and  to  have  learned  of  the 
operations  and  condition  of  aftairs  in  large  stock 
houses  from  trusted  employees.  Some  of  these 
professions,  a  very  small  portion  of  tlioni,  may 
be  true,  but  they  are  much  more  likely  to  be 
simply  the  embellishments  of  the  pointer  upon 
what  he  picks  up  in  his  ramblings — the  gossip, 
opinions,  and  theories  of  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry. 
Ho  strives,  however,  to  get  hold  of  everv  new 
piece  of  gossip  and  every  fresh  rumor  before 
they  assume  the  shape  of  definite  report  and  be- 
come generally  current.  He  at  once  works  in 
with  it  the  best  material  he  can  command  to  give 
the  story  an  appearance  of  probability,  attributes 
its  origin  to  the  best  source  ho  dares,  and  serves 
the  whole  up  to  his  prospective  victim.  If  the 
victim  bites,  and  cither  pays  him  cash  for  his 
point  or  promises  him  an  interest  in  the  stock 
that  is  to  l)e  influenced,  the  pointer  jiroceeds  at 
once  to  enlighten  every  one  else.  He  gives  it 
first  confidentially,  and  as  a  rule  to  some  of  his 
fellow  ])ointer8,  but  within  an  hour  he  is  sowing 
it  broadcast  as  an  absolute  fact.  By  such  meth- 
ods what  was  a  bit  of  idle  j^ossip  in  the  morning 
may  by  uuou  bccume  a  wiJctjprcad  and  influen- 


tial report  not  without  effect  in  the  market.  In 
that  case  the  pointer  is  in  luck.  His  prediction 
is  to  a  certain  degree  fultilled,  and  bis  reputa- 
tion as  a  steeret  increased  accordingly.  The 
instances  in  which  a  point  is  successfuUy  worked 
up  in  this  manner  art-  not  frequent  as  compared 
with  the  number  of  etfoita  the  pointer  makes. 
He  is  not  likely  to  be  correct  in  his  guesses  and 
prophecies  oftener  than  the  average  Wall  Street 
habitue. 

As  a  class  the  pomters  are  rather  a  sorry-look- 
ing set,  and  but  for  the  questionable  methods 
that  they  resort  to  for  a  livehhood  one  might  al- 
most pity  them.  Their  ranks  are  recruited  ftom 
broken-down  speculators  and  brokers,  discarded 
clerks  and  runners  who  have  got  above  their 
business.  Many  of  them  are  men  who  have  been 
fortunate.  All  of  them  are  slaves  to  stock  gam- 
bling, and  are  too  lazy  to  work  for  a  hving.  One 
'of  them  boasts  of  the  salary  he  used  to  draw 
from  one  of  the  large  railroad  companies,  and 
asserts  that  the  concern  would  be  only  too  glad 
to  regain  his  services.  "  But  I  cannot  afford  to 
work  for  such  pay  as  that,"  he  says  magnificent- 
ly. Yet  an  additional  shade  or  two  of  dirt  and 
seediness  would  clothe  him  as  a  tramp.  Most 
of  them  dress  m  the  remnants  of  former  pros- 
perity. A  few,  however,  apparently  keep  on 
good  terms  mth  their  tailors.  The  most  distin- 
guished in  this  respect  is  a  young  man  who,  ac- 
cording to  his  own 
account,  was  brought 
to  New  York  from 
the  West  some  three 
years  ago  by  a  gen- 
tle man  who  then 
held  a  promment  of- 
ficial position  in  the 
Western  Union  Tele- 
graph Company.  He 
leaves  it  to  his  hear- 
ers to  imagine  a  va- 
riety of  reasons  as  to 
why  he  was  thus  in- 
troduced into  New 
York,  insinuating 
that  it  was  some  im- 
portant mission  for 
which  he  was  thor- 
oughly qualified.  He 
used  to  be  a  tele- 
graph operator,  and 
can,  of  course,  by  lis- 
tening to  the  insti'u 
nient  or  by  o  t  h  e  i 
means,  get'  a  g^eat 
deal  of  valuable  in- 
formation. At  least 
he  says  he  can.  He 
hkes  to  convince  the 
person  whom  he  de- 
sires shall  contribute 
to  his  funds  that  he 
is  an  expert  operator, 
and  to  that  end  will 
get  them  to  experi- 
ment with  him.  He 
IS  a  good  talker, 
plausible,  and  posi- 
tive in  his  state- 
ments.  He  will  bet 
^  a  fair  sum  on  his  as- 

sertions when  begets 
a  chance,  but  doesn't  put  up  the  cash  if  he  can 
help  it.  In  fact,  he  is  likely  to  back  down  if  it  is 
insisted  that  the  stakes  be"  put  up.  If  he  wins 
he  collects  the  bet;  it  he  loses  he  lets  the  other 
man  collect  it  if  ho  can.  As  a  rule  (he  other 
man  can't  do  it.  His  financial  methods  serve  to 
illustrate  those  of  the  average  pointer.  He  owes 
every  one  he  could  borrow  from,  for  when  a 
pointer  can't  sell  a  point  he  borrows  if  he  can, 
sometimes  on  the  strength  of  a  point  he  is  going 
to  deliver  or  of  one  he  has  given.  The  young 
man  referred  to  sports  at  the  end  of  his  hst  o( 
creditors  an  industrious  bootblack  to  whom  his 
liabilities  are  $3.50,  partlv  for  shines,  but  princi- 
pallv  borrowed  money,  ^ow  this  humble,  hard- 
working, and  honest  creditor  regards  bis  claim 
mav  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  all  the  other 
bootblacks  in  the  street  have  the  point  not  to 
shine  the  pointer  except  for  cash.  While  few  of 
the  species  bear  the  appearance  of  active,  pros- 
perous brokers,  and  most  of  them  the  air  of  dis- 
tressed gentilitv,  there  arc  others  who  impress 
one  as  being  substantial  men  of  business.  Their 
advanced  years,  respectable  dress  and  air,  quiet 
wavs,  and  sohd  bearing  stand  them  in  good  stead 
as  'stock  in  trade.  There  is  fraternal  feeling 
among  the  pointers.  They  cultivate  each  other's 
society  more  than  that  of  any  one  else,  and  in 
groups  of  two  or  half  a  dozen  "or  more  hang  over 
the  railiuss  in  New  Street,  lounge  about  the  sa- 
loon doors,  or  obstruct  legitimate  busiuees  in  the 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE  CITY. 


13 


middle  of  the  street  all  day  long.  They  trade 
points,  jointly  muuufacturo  them,  and  concoct 
plans  lor  getting  money  without  caruiug  it.  They 
talk  stocks  continually,  and  have  more  to  say 
about  the  market  than  all  of  the  rest  of  thoastroel 
together.  Any  one  of  thoui  can  talk  a  seusible  man 
tired  from  his  head  to  his  feet  m  less  than  lifteen 
Mumutcs.  At  night  they  frequent  the  Windsor 
and  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotels  still  on  the  warpath 
for  points  and  patrons.  They  arc  not  always 
I  expensive  fellows  as  to  price.  If  they  can't  get 
any  one  to  turn  a  hundred  shares  for  them  they 
will  content  themselves  with  a  half,  a  third,  or  a 
quarter  interest  in  a  hundred  shares.  If  they 
are  hard  up  and  haven't  much  coulidcncc  in  tho 
point  in  hand  themselves,  they  will  come  down 
to  a  cash  basis  and  to  $5,  if  a  higher  price  can- 
not be  obtained.  Not  long  ago  an  extra  valuable 
point  on  one  of  the  Yanderbiu  stocks  was  offereil 
to  a  partner  in  one  of  the  leading  stock  houses. 
It  was  a  positive,  warranted  sure,  high-priced 
point.  As  no  bid  was  made  for  it  the  price  was 
gradually  reduced  to  a  small  amount  in  cash. 
Finally,  the  broker  to  whom  it  was  offered  said 
ho  TTOuld  not  give  a  cent  for  it  unless  ho  know 
■where  it  came  from.  He  wanted  the  pointer  to 
tell  how  it  was  possible  for  him  to  obtain  such 
valuable  information. 

The  young  man  hesitated  a  while,  saying  that 
it  would  be  indelicate  as  well  as  a  breach  of 
confidence,  and  tinally  in  diffident  and  blushing 
confidence  revealed  that  he  obtained  it  from  a 
lady  firiend  who  was  on  intimate  terms  with  one 
of  the  great  railroad  magnates  of  the  country. 
He  was  quietly  yet  earnestly  requested  to  take 
himself,  hie  point,  and  his  lady  friend  to  the 
place  that  according  to  the  Scriptures  is  set 
apart  for  aH  Uars. 

Can  an  occupation  so  largely  de- 
pendent upon  fraud  and  deceit  be 
profitable  ?  The  answer  is  that  a 
large  number  of  men  who  do  little  or 
nothing  and,  so  far  as  can  be  learned, 
have  no  visible  means  of  support, 
work  for  points,  sell  points,  live,  and 
at  times  have  a  little  money.  The 
only  things  else  they  are  known  to 
do  for  a  living  is  to  gamble  in  the 
bucket  shops  when  they  have  a  few 
dollars,  scalp  a  commission  now  and 
then  from  a  privilege  broker,  or  oc- 
casionally "  shove  a  pad."  Ask  an 
old  Wall  Street  man  what  one  of  these 
indolent  fellows  does  for  a  living,  and 
he  will  reply  that  "  he  probably  does 
the  best  he  can,"  and  add  that  he  is 
u  "  mystery."  The  term  is  synony- 
mous "  with  ^tocle  Kufus's  pomter. 
Occasionally  ofle  of  them  succeeds  in 
attaching  himself  to  an  operator  and 
is  retained  for  months  at  a  time.  It 
is  tair  to  assume  that  he  is  employed, 
not  so  much  for  the  particular  points 
he  may  bring  in  as  for  a  gatherer  of 
the  gossip  and  rumors  that  are  afloat, 
some  of  which,  if  promptly  deUvered, 
may  be  considered  of  value  by  the 
patron.  One  of  them  has  apparently  borne  close 
relatione  with  a  speculator  ol  some  magnitude  in 
a  New  Street  office  for  more  than  three  years. 
The  two  seem  to  be  almost  inseparable.  "  They 
are  together  when  down  town,  except  when  the 
"  mystery "  is  working  his  fellow  pointers,  and 
invariably  in  each  other's  company  in  the  up- 
town resorts.  As  a  rule  the  credulity  and  ava- 
aice  of  their  victims  are  punished  with  a  loss. 

The  experience  of  one  speculator  may  serve 
to  illustrate  that  of  many  others.  Tho  specu- 
lator was  a  man  of  ample  means,  and  had  been 
successful  in  his  ventures.  Without  consulting 
his  brokers,  whose  advice  he  had  always  sought, 
he  entered  upon  speculations  that  amazed  them 
and  for  which  he  offered  no  satisfactory  reason. 
•One  day  one  of  his  brokers  ran  across  him  in 
earnest  conversation  with  a  young  man  who  had 
once  hold  a  position  ot  trust  in  a  banking  house 
and  since  his  discharge  had  acquired  the  repu- 
tation of  being  a  pointer.  In  a  subsequent  con- 
versation between  the  broker  and  his  customer 
the  latter  admitted  that  his  recent  ventures  in 
the  market  had  been  based  upon  the  advice  and 
alleged  information  of  the  young  man  mentioned. 
The  broker  warned  his  customer  against  such  a 
course,  but  Trithout  avail.  To  conceal  his  new 
operations  from  those  who  protested  against  his 
making  them  he  opened  accounts  in  several  other 
Dffices.  After  he  had  lost  over  $200,000,  by 
speculating  upon  pointer  advices  and  points,  he 
stopped.  In  transactions  in  which  he  made 
money  ho  paid  his  pointer  well,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  game  that  worthy  put  in  a  claim  for  profits 
that  might  have  been  taken  upon  transactions 
that  showed  a  slight  profit  before  they  resulted 
.in  lose. 


CONFIDENCE     GAMES     AND     OTHEB 
SWINDLES. 


Farmers  and  all  other  strangers,  who  for  busi- 
ness or  pleasure  visit  Now  York,  should  be  aware 
that  there  aro  gangs  of  scoundrels  who  make  it 
their  business  to  lay  in  wait  for,  and  entrap 
everyone  who  has  Hie  appearance  of,  a  stranger. 

THE   PETER   FUNK    AUCTIONS 

wore,  some  years  ago,  doing  a  great  business. 
These  auction  shops  were  in  the  most  frequented 
streets,  and  their  trade,  the  selling  of  worthless 
watches  and  bogus  jewelry,  was  carried  on 
openly  and  boldly.  Whenever  a  stranger  could 
bo  tempted  into  ono  of  these  dens,  he  was  quite 
sure  to  bo  fleeced.  He  sometimes  made  a  com- 
plaint to  the  authorities,  and  if  he  went  with  tho 
officers  to  make  arrests,  tho  victim  failed  to 
identify  a  single  person  who  was  concerned  in 
the  swindle.  Several  of  these  shops  were  under 
the  same  management,  and  as  soon  as  a  sale  had 
been  made  in  one  of  them,  the  auctioneer  and 
his  confederates  all  went  to  one  of  the  other 
shops,  and  exchanged  places  with  the  inmates, 
and  when  an  attempt  was  made  to  arrest,  no  one 
engaged  in  a  sale  could  be  found.  All  other 
methods  of  breaking  up  these  mock  auction 
shops  falling,  at  length  a  police  officer  was  sta- 
tioned in  front  of  each,  with  instructions  to  warn 
all  who  were  tempted  to  enter  of  tho  character 
of  the  business.  This  completely  broke  up  the 
concerns.  "Peter  Funk  " — the  name  often  given 
by  the  auctioneer,  if  arrested — now  no  longer 
sells  worthless  jewelry  and  watches.  He  some- 
times sells  furniture  "  of  a  family  breaking  up 
housekeeping."    It  is  remarkable  that  the  family 


cipal  streets,  and  waylay  the  passengers  from 
the  depots  and  ferry-boats.     When  one  of  these 
chaps  sees  a  Well-to-do  looking  person,  who  is 
oviuontly  a  stranger,  he  rushes  up  to  him,  shakes 
his   hand,    with:  "How  ti/)  you   do,  Mr.  Jones, 
when  did  you  come  down,  and  how  did  you  leave 
nil  the  good  people  at  Ijttletown?"    Tho  stranger    , 
may  say:  "  Vou  aro  mistaUcii,  sir;  my  name  ia 
not  Jones;  I  am   Mr.  Smith,  of  Four  Corners." 
He  will  not  walk  far,  before  a  confederate  of  tho 
first  will  salute  hiiu  as  "  Mr.  Smith,"  and  insist    i 
on  inquiring  about  "  the  folks  at  Four  Corners."   f 
This  opens  the  way  to  a  more  familiar  acquaint-  .i 
ance,  and  tho  man  from  "  Four  Corners     is  in-   ■. 
duced  to  accompany  his  new  found  friend  to  look   ' 
at  some  recent  purchase  he  has  made.     There  a 
game  of  cards  is  in  progress,  and  in  a  short  time 
tho  stranger   is   persuaded    to   play.     He  wins 
again  and  again,  and  loses  with  astonishing  reg- 
ularity.    Ho  soon  finds  himself  largely  m  debt, 
and  is  fortunate  if  ho  escapes  with  only  the  loss 
of   the   ready   money   in    liis    iJossossiou.     Tho 
"  game  "  is  an  old  one,  and  tho  "  danger  signal " 
has  often  been  raised  to  warn  the  unwary.     But 
no  "game  "is  more  successfully  or  more  fre- 
quently played.     Hudibras  thinks  "  the  pleasure 
is  as  great  of  being  cheated  as  to  cheat,"  and 
perhaps  it  is  on   this  principle   that  so  many 
worthy  people  are  made  the  dupes  of  sharpers. 
A  case  in  point  occurred  in  Boston, 


N3W  YORK   TTNIVEKSITY. 

is  a  long  while  in  "breaking  up,"  as  the  furni- 
ture is  sold  in  the  same  house  every  day  for 
months.  Such  sales  are  supplied  with  showy 
but  miserable  furniture,  made  for  the  purpose. 
Bureaus  have  been  sold  without  drawers,  the 
fronts  being  fastened  m  place,  and  other  shams 
are  common. 

AUCTION   SAXiES   OF  C10AB3 

are  just  now  among  the  leading  auction  swindles. 
There  are  several  stores,  in  the  busy  streets, 
where  the  "going,"  "  going "  of  these  chaps 
may  be  heard  all  day  long.  A  store  is  hired, 
boxes  of  cigars — or  more  likely  cigar  boxes — are 
placed  in  the  window  and  on  "the  shelves,  and  a 
red  flag  ia  hung  at  the  door.  The  auctioneer 
cries  and  hammers  away  to  an  audience  of  two 
or  three  confederates,  with  usually  one  venera- 
ble looking  old  rascal  among  them.  If  a  stranger, 
attracted  by  the  noise,  looks  in,  bidding  goes  on 
Uvely.  If  a  smoker,  he  may  be  tempted  to  bid, 
when  a  lot  of  ten  boxes  is  going,  and  he  can  get 
it  by  bidding  five  dollars.  The  usual  trick  is 
this:  The  stranger  thinks  he  buys  the  lot  of  five 
or  ten  boxes  for  his  bid,  but  soon  finds  that  the 
bid  was  of  that  amount  lor  each  box.  There  are 
witnesses  to  that  effect,  and  the  buyer  is  often 
frightened  into  pajiug  a  high  price  for  cigars 
which  are  worth  nothing.  A  stranger  in  New 
York  or  in  any  other  city  should  avoid  all  auc- 
tions. 
Another  trap  is  laid  by  what  are  known  as 

BANCO   STEEREES. 

These  were  formerly  more  prominent  in  Chi- 
cago than  elsewhere,  but  now  every  large  city 
is  infested  by  them.     They  promenade  the  pric- 


BANCO-STEEllER  FITEOEBALD  AND  CHARLES  FRANCIS 
ADAMS 

being  the  conspicuous  parties.  Mr.  Adams,  an 
aged  and  honored  citizen,  was  taken  m  hand  by 
a  plausible,  well-spoken  voung  man,  and  con- 
ducted to  a  den  occupied  by  sharpers,  whore  he 
was  induced  to  play  cards  and  forced 
to  give  his  checks  for  a  large  amount 
of  money,  his  alleged  losses.  Banco- 
steeror  Fitzgerald  reckoned  without 
his  host.  He  supposed  that  Mr. 
Adams  and  his  family  would  be  de- 
terred from  making  the  circum- 
stances public,  and  upon  their  silence 
he  depended  for  the  quiet  enjoy- 
ment of  Ins  ill-gotten  gains.  But  his 
dream  was  rudely  dispelled  bv  tho 
unexpected  conduct  of  the  Aclams 
family,  who  hunted  up  Fitzgerald 
and  ills  associates,  and  prosecuted 
them  to  the  lull  extent  of  the  law,  as 
Fitzgerald,  now  in  prison  for  his 
crime,  has  found  to  his  cost.  These 
Banco-steerers  seek  their  victims 
everywhere,  not  only  in  city  streets, 
but  on  steamboats  and  the  cars. 

THERE  IS  BUT  ONE  SAFE  COURSE 

for  those  who  travel  or  who  find 
themselves  in  a  stiange  city.  That 
is,  to  repel  the  approaches  of  every 
one  who  is  disposed  to  bo  too  familiar. 
Do  not  admit  that  you  are  a  stranger 
in  the  city  to  whicli  you  are  destined, 
and  dechne  all  offers  to  serve  as  a 
guide.  Above  all,  never  enter  a 
building  of  any  kind  with  a  person  unknown  to 
you. 

An  illustration  of  the  necessity  for  the  warn- 
ing has  been  furnished  by 

A   DISTINGUISHED    STEAXGEK. 

He  was  not  from  the  rural  districts  and  unused 
to  cities,  but  came  from  the  old  country  as  a  poet 
and  an  exponent  of  aesthetics  and  a  lecturer  on 
the  beautiful.  He  thought  "  small  beer  "  of  the 
Atlantic,  Niagara  was  an  "utterly  utter  ''  disap- 
pointment, and  our  fondness  for  cast-iron  stoves 
an  offence  to  his  sense  of  the  sweet  pretty.  Oscar 
was  one  day  accosted  on  the  street  by  a  young 
man  who  was  very  glad  to  meet  him.  The  young 
man  was  "  Mr.  Drexel,"  so  he  said,  a  son  of  the 
celebrated  banker;  he  had  seen  the  poet  in  his 
father's  banking  house,  and  took  the  liberty,  etc. 
As  Oscar  had  been  in  the  office,  he  accepted  the 
"  younger  Drexel  "  as  all  right,  and  accompanied 
him  to  a  house  in  one  of  the  uptown  streets. 

Some  men  were  playing  a  game  with  dice,  and 
"  young  Drexel  "  played  and  won  largely.  The 
poet  was  asked  to  play;  he  did  so,  and  won.  En- 
couraged, he  won  more.  The  stakes  were  en- 
larged, and  Oscar  did  not  win,  but  lost,  and  lost 
again.  Determined  to  recover  his  losses,  he 
played  on,  until  he  lost  in  all  $1,160.  He  gave 
hischecks  for  that  sum,  and  suspecting,  m  spite 
of  "  Mr.  Drexel,"  thai,  all  was  not  right,  he  drove 
in  haste  to  the  bank  and  stopped  payment  of  the 
checks.  He  then  visited  the  pohce  station,  but, 
with  true  poetic  abstraction,  conld  not  tell  what 
street  thenouse  was  in,  and  the  police  conld  do 
nothing.  Oscar  was  asked  to  look  at  the  pictures 
in  the  Rogues'  Gallery,  where  he  soon  found  the 
portrait  of  hia  friend  '"'  Drexel "  in  that  of  a  persoB 


14 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


known  to  the  police  aa  "  Hungry  Joe,"  and  a 
noted  Banco  steerer. 

Oecar  soon  left  for  home— he  could  find  noth- 
ing beautiful  m  this  "  beastly"  country— yet  he 
cannot  deny  that  he  was  most  beautilully  swin- 
dled. 


THE  BOWERY  AT  MIDNIGHT, 


The  Bowery,  writes  Sam.  A.  Mackeever  in 
"Glimpses  of  Gotham,'  published  by  Richard 
K.  Fox,  is  one  of  New  York's  representative 
streets,  and  is  always  interesting.  Broadway! 
Fifth  Avenue!  the  Bowery! — those  are  terms  fa- 
miliar to  thousands  who  have  never  seen 
America. 

Crossing  Broadway  at  Eighth  Street,  we  notice 
that  that  monster  thoroughfare  is  in  a  doze. 
Nothing  is  heard  but  the  rattle  of  the  wheels  of 
the  last  stages  as  they  forge  along  with  their 
blinking  ligbta.  Cabmen  lay  around  the  Sinclair 
House  and  "  Mike  Murray  s  "  place,  and  scan 
the  street  up  and  down  with  tne  fond  idea  of 
catching  a  drunken  man,  or  some  one  who  has 
conceived  the  plan  of  making  a  night  of  it.  Broad- 
way below  Fourteenth  Street  is  dead  after  mid- 
night. We  leave  it  willingly  and  turn  into  the 
Bowery,  around  the  corner  of  the  Cooper  Union. 

It  is  another  city.  The  first  block  we  see  is 
nothing  but  a  string  of  liquor  saloons,  with  a 
bank  and  a  drug  store  thrown  in  to  break  the 
monotony.  The  cellars  are  eating  houses — all- 
Dight  places,  whose  lights  stream  up  to  mix  in 
splendor  with  those 
radiating  from  the 
bars. 

Let  ns  go  in  to  ore 
of  the  first  so-called 
hotels  that  we  meet. 
This  establishment 
never  closes  ita  eyes. 
The  young  man  be- 
hind the  bar  is  as 
fresh  as  a  daisy,  and 
should  be,  because 
he  has  just  come 
on.  But  what  trade 
do  they  have  ?  Plen- 
ty of  trade.  The 
men  in  the  Tomp- 
kins Market  must 
have  their  periodi- 
cal drinks;  so  must 
the  policeman.  Up 
to  2  o'clock  in  the 
morning  the  busi- 
ness is  but  a  contin- 
uation of  that  of  the 
day.  Between  2  and  ^^■'■'■■^Qjr^ 
5  o'clock  the  early  Si*'-^'-  -- 
workers,  dealers  in 
newspapers,  young 
men  who  went  to 
bed  at  midnight,  hot  '~^; 
with  r  u  ni,  and  '^fe' 
couldn't  sleep — they  ""^" 
come  in  for  their 
drama. 

On  a  couple  of 
chairs,  heads  sprawled  upon  the  beer-stained 
tables,  are  customers  who  could  no  more  go 
homo  than  fly.  The  bar-tender  shakes  snores 
out  of  them'  and  returns  disgusted  to  his 
work. 

Suddenly  the  bell  at  the  side  door  rings.  Were 
we  outside  wo  would  see  a  gentleman  and  lady 
standing  in  the  entry.  The  lady  has  her  veil 
down,  although  the  precaution  is  unnecessary, 
since  the  gas  is  turned  so  low  that  it  seems  a 
mere  speck  of  red  in  the  luridly-tinted  globe. 

By  the  operation  of  an  electric  bell,  manipula- 
ted ou  the  platfoi'iii  iip-stairs,  the  door  flies  open. 
The  couple  enter  and  ascend  the  first  landing, 
where,  in  an  ante-room  filled  with  bottles  and 
dishes,  stands  a  servant  who  knows  his  business. 
He  is  a  combination  of  politeness,  suavity  and 
silence. 

The  couple  desire  a  supper  room. 

"  Certainly.     St«p  this  way." 

And  be  glides  down  a  long  hall,  filled  with  the 
murmur  of  conversation  from  rooms  on  either 
side,  until  he  comes  to  No.  10.  There  is  the 
flash  of  a  match,  and  a  neat  apartment,  fur- 
nished with  table,  chairs  and  a  lounge,  is  re- 
vealed. 

We  don't  see  auy  of  this,  but  we  hear  the  order 
for  oysters,  salad  and  a  bottle  of  wine,  which  are 
consumed  in  No.  10.  Sometimes  the  wine  has  a 
marvelous  effect  upon  the  silent,  timid,  hesitat- 
ing woman  who  was  so  closely  veiled  at  the 
street  door.  She  talks  in  a  loud  voice;  she 
sings.  It  is  not  the  strangest  thing  in  the  world 
«ven    for  the  couple  m  the  adjoining    supper- 


room  to  join  in  the  tun  and  eventually  to  pro- 
pose making  it  all  one  party. 

As  we  go  down,  the  Bowery  becomes  a  succes- 
sion of  beer  gardens,  huge,  Brilliantly  illuminat- 
ed places,  with  an  army  of  waiters,  and  a  stage 
at  one  end  on  which  appear  variety  actors.  The 
dramatic  part  of  the  bill  is  not  of  a  very  high 
order,  but  we  don't  expect  it  to  be. 

Who  is  that  young  lady  in  the  seal-skin  sacque 
who  has  just  sank  into  a  seat  ahead  of  us,  only 
to  be  surrounded  by  about  sis  fast-looking 
young  men,  who  almost  fight  in  their  eagerness 
to  treat  her  ? 

"  Make  it  a  schooner.  Max,"  she  says  to  the 
waiter  in  a  tone  of  easy  famiUarity;  "I'm  thirs- 
ty." Then  she  unbuttons  her  seal-skin,  leans 
back,  puts  her  feet  on  a  chair  opposite,  and 
wipes  the  perspii'ation  and  pamt  from  her  hard, 
brazened  face. 

"  Who  is  she.  Max  ?  " 

"Her?  oh,  she's  the  gal  the  man  chucks  the 
knives  at.    Want  to  know  her  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you."' 

So  we  are  in  the  society  of  a  beer  garden 
queen.  She  is  holding  her  regular  court.  Her 
knife-thrower  is  on  in  the  pantomime,  and  she 
has  to  wait  for  him. 

The  running  of  the  cars  all  night  keeps  the 
Bowery  alive.  Some  of  those  that  come  down 
from  Harlem  have  regular  gangs  of  pirates  on 
board,  drunken  men  and  women  who  fight,  throw 
the  conductor  and  driver  ofif,  smash  the  windows 
and  yell  murder.  This  is  especially  so  in  the 
summer  time  when  moonlight  picnics  are  in  full 


Kll  I'U    AVKMK    lUVlK 


blast.  I  would  as  hcf  be  on  at  slave  ship, 
where  the  crew  all  wear  red  shirts,  as  ride  in 
some  of  the  Bowery  street  cai°s  in  the  hours  along 
towards  morning. 

Approaching  Chatham  Square  the  Bowery  be- 
comes more  degraded.  It  has  any  quantity  cf 
all-night  saloons  in  cellars,  which  are  veritable 
entrances  to  Hades.  Look  at  the  painted,  gaud- 
ily-be-ribboned  hag  cajoling  the  nonest  sailor, 
who  is  very  drunk,  into  entering  one  of  these 
places. 

He  stumbles  against  the  door,  behind  whose 
cnmson  curtain  the  gas  blazes,  and  as  it  is  burst 
open,  we  see  a  monstrous,  bloated  woman  in  the 
bar,  and  five  or  six  bedizened  females  in  tawdry 
Turkish  costumes,  making  love  to  as  many 
drunken  individuals,  while  a  young  man  in  sred 
necktie  bangs  away  at  the  piano. 

The  door  closes.  Our  sailor  friend  is  swal- 
lowed up.  It  were  better  for  him  bad  he  been 
wrecked  at  sea,  and  landed  on  a  desert  island. 


FALLEN  ANGELS. 


Thr£E  years  ago  last  July,  wrote  Nathan  D. 
Urner  in  a  series  of  articles  published  in  the 
New  Yo)-k  Weekly,  under  the  title  of  "  Metropol- 
itan Shadow  Scenes,"  I  was  induced  to  visit  the 
three  or  four  "  Homes  "  for  the  reformation  of 
those  unfortunate -Heaven  alone  knows  how  un- 
fortunate!— who  make  up  in  society  the  element 
now  generally  known  as  the  "  Social  Evil,"  and 
I  remember  the  superintendent  of  one  of  them 


saying  to  me:  "  It  has  often  astonished  me  to  Sncl 
in  these  women  such  contradictory  characteris- 
tics of  good  and  evil.  While  the  mind,  as  a  gen- 
eral thmg,  appears  absolutely  depraved,  and  the 
spirit  sunken  to  the  lowest  depths,  I  frequently 
find  a  greatheartedness,  a  generosity  of  feeling, 
and  other  impulsive  and  noble  traits,  which,  it 
is  difficult  to  imagine,  can  spring  up  in  the  same 
breast." 

He  was  a  religious,  deep-feeling  gentleman, 
and  my  own  experience  has  verified  his  words  to 
the  letter. 

The  most  remarkable  instance  that  has  come  ' 
under  my  personal  knowledge  involves  a  wild ' 
and  romantic  history,  which  I  think  can  hardly 
fail  to  prove  intereshng. 

It  was  a  cold,  autumnal  evening — many  au- 
tumns since — and  just  at  that  period  when  the 
great  tide  of  work-people  was  pouring  up  Chat- 
ham Street  from  the  lower  districts  of  the  East- 
side.  Wearied  with  overwork  at  the  quill  my- 
self, and  cold  and  hungry,  I  had  joined  the 
throng  for  home,  heedless  of  anything  but  the 
desire  to  reach  home  as  soon  as  possible,  when  a 
young  woman  accosted  me  at  the  corner  of 
"Catherine  Street.  My  moral  sensibihties  were 
somewhat  shocked,  but  it  was  a  circumstance  so 
common  to  any  one  in  New  York,  that  I  hurried 
on  without  looking  at  her.  But  she  sprang  be- 
fore me  again  and  again,  until,  surprised  at  her 
persistency,  I  looked  at  her,  with  an  angry  com- 
ment prepared. 

But  the  words  died  on  my  lips,  tlie  f»ce  was 
so  instinct  with  love  and  beauty,  and  the  youth- 
ful form  so  graceful 
and  delicate  in  its 
modest  garb. 

"  I  did  not  ask 
for  money,"  she 
said,  in  a  "hurried, 
trembling  tone.  "  I 
have  stood  at  that 
street  corner  for  an 
hour,  studying  the 
face  of  every  one  in 
this  great  crowd  for 
sympathy,  and  you 
are  the  "only  one  I 
have  ventured  to 
accost.  lamhome-i 
less  and  penniless. 
I  dare  not  go  to  a 
station-house  for  a 
lodging.  Is  there 
not  some  place, 
some  charitable  in- 
stitution where  I — 
I  jffii  stop  for  a 
while  ?  Pray,  do 
not  be  angiy  with 
mo  for  inaKmg  the 
request." 

I  was  by  no  means 
greatly  incensed 
at  it,  atid  kindly 
mentioned  several 
respectable  board- 
ing-houses, where 
I  thought  she  might 
obtain  board  with- 
out paying  in  advance.  A  blush  of  shame  quick- 
ly overspread  her  face,  and  her  head  drooped. 

"  I  see,  sir,  you — you  do  not  comprehend.  I 
— I  am  not  a  decent  'woman,  sir,  and  want  to  try 
to  be." 

I  was  surprised,  but  only  for  a  moment,  for  as 
I  looked  at  her  more  intently,  it  was  easy  to 
read,  even  through  such  a  lovely  mask,  the  un- 
mistakable air  of  a  fallen  woman — the  uncon- 
scious air  which  once  assumed  can  so  seldom  be 
replaced  by  the  innocence  and  virtue  of  the 
past. 

I  then  remembered  one  of  the  "  Homes  "  of 
which  I  have  spoken,  and  though  it  was  far  out 
of  my  wav,  she  volunteered  to  accompany  mo 
thither.  6he  complied  with  a  glance  of  genuine 
gratitude,  and  in  an  hour  I  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  her  warmlv  and  comfortably  housed, 
and  provided  with  all  the  entertainment  of  the 
mstitution,  which  was  one  of  the  most  excellent 
of  its  kind  in  the  city. 

She  remained  there  for  a  number  of  months, 
during  which  a  number  of  interviews  with  heron 
my  part,  elicited  her  entire  history,  which  was  a 
strange  and  wild  one,  even  for  one  of  her  class. 
When  her  reformation  was  supposed  to  be  per- 
fect, she  was,  in  accordance  witli  the  rules  of  the 
institution,  sent  to  a  Western  State,  where  de- 
cent employment  was  provided  for  her. 

Nearly  three  years  thereafter,  I  received  a  note 
from  the    Supe"rintendent  of  the  "  Home,"  re- 
questing me  to  call  upon  him  at  my  earliest  con- 
venience. 
"  I  sent  for  you,"  said  he,  taking  my  hand  very 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE  CITY. 


15 


1,'ravelv,  as  I  entered  hia  office,  "to  accompany 
nie  to-^^ —  Hospital,  to  see  an  old  friend  of  yoiiiH 
who  in  probably  dying  with  the  dulirium  trc- 
wens."  ,     , ,      , 

D.-lirium  tremens!  What  "  friend  had  I,  who 
was  given  to  excessive  drink?  None!  There 
moat  be  some  mistake. 

"  You  shall  see,"  said  ho;  and  I  straightway 
accompanied  him  to  the  hospital  ho  had  named. 

Ravings,  oaths  and  curses,  mingled  with  terri- 
fied cries,  greeted  our  oars,  as  wo  were  being 
escorted  to  a  certain  ward  of  the  hospital.  Upon 
entering,  we  perceived  a  female  from  whom 
these  cries  proceeded.  She  was  tied  by  a  strong 
cord  to  the  couch  upon  which  she  lay,  and  phy- 
sicians and  other  attendants  wore  around  her; 
but  she  still  waved  her  arms,  and  strove  to  burst 
away,  giving  vent  to  heartrending  appeals  and 
frightened  cries,  as  though  she  wished  to  lly 
from  imaginary  fiends. 

One  glance  at  the  bloodshot  eyes,  the  wild,  in- 
flamed countenance,  was  sufficient;  and  I  stood 
transfixed  with  grief  and  amazement. 

It  was  she— my  lovely  protege  of  crowded 
Chatham  Street,  whom,  three  years  before,  I  had 
introduced  to  the  "  Home,"  of  wliich  my  friend 
•was  Superintendent. 

She— and  yet  how  woefully,  wildly,  fearfully 
changed! 

Gone  the  bright  glance  of  the  sweet  blue  eyes, 
the  soft  smile  of  the  tender  lip,  the  melodious 
<race  of  the  round  form!  Gone  every  trace, 
vestige,   line,  trait,   hnea- 

flient  of  the  past.    By  what 

wild  ways,  through  what 
8iu,  and  shame,  and  suflfer- 
ing,  had  this  terrible  trans- 
formation been  affected, 
the  all-BOoing  eye  of  God 
alone  could  know. 

She  must  hare  wandered 
far  in  those  brief  years, 
for  the  broken  words  of  her 
•delirium  were  Spanish,  and 
French,  and  German,  as 
well  ae  of  her  native 
tongue.  Now  she  would 
suddenly  become  subdued, 
and  converse  with  an  im- 
aginary friend  in  a  tone  not 
3,11  devoid  of  the  trembling 
sweetness  of  yore;  then, 
as  the  flames  of  the  fever 
once  more  raged  on  high, 
she  would  shriek  and 
moan,  and  curse,  until  the 
blood  curdled  at  the  fright- 
ful sounds. 

The  physician  informing 
lis  that  there  was  no  hope, 
that  she  could  last  but  a 
few  hours,  and  it  being  evi- 
dent that  we  could  do  no- 
thing, my  friend  and  I 
turned  sadly  away.  Upon 
our  return  to  his  office,  he 
told  me  what  he  had  gath- 
ered of  this  poor  girl's 
history  since  she  had  quit- 
ted the  institution,  and 
joining  this  with  what  I 
knew  of  her  previous  life, 
I  am  able  to  afford  the  fol- 
lowing brief  sketch  of  one  of  whom  I  shall  call 


■'  sweet  •ixteen  "  Margaret's  hour  of  fate  arrived. 
A  distant  relative  paid  a  flying  visit  from  the 
metropolis  to  her  father's  house.  He  was  a 
young  gentleman,  a  gay,  dashing  fellow,  with  all 
the  cuarm  of  manner  and  person  calculated  to 
win  a  village  maiden's  heart.  He  wan  moreover 
a  villain  and  a  scoundrel— but  Margaret  knew 
nothing  of  this. 

She  was  fascinated  from  the  first.  In  a  day 
she  liked,  in  a  week  she  loved,  and  the  gay  visi- 
tor did  not  neglect  to  improve  his  opportunities. 
But  the  father  of  Margaret  had,  in  the  meantime, 
heard  rumors  from  the  metropolis  by  no  mcaas 
favorable  to  the  character  of  his  distant,  but  fas- 
cinating, relative — rumors  that  he  was  an  out- 
cast from  his  own  family  and  respectable  friends 

— in  other  words,  a  gambler,  drunkard  and 

Satisfying  himself  of  the  truth  of  those  reports, 
the  farmer,  a  stern  but  good  man,  ordered  the 
deceiver — his  name  was  Marston  Grant — from 
the  house,  and  forbade  his  daughter  to  have  any 
further  communication  with  him.  But  alas, 
Margaret,  in  her  folly  and  passion,  had  already 
overstepped  that  boundary,  the  crossing  of  which 
is  the  first  step  to  a  woman's  ruin,  and  she  was 
not  the  first  to  forget  her  duty  to  her  parents  in 
a  blind  devotion  to  a  worthless  lover. 

There  were  clandestine  meetings  without  num- 
ber, and  finally  an  elopement  agreed  upon.    One 
sweet  silent  mght  of  summer,  Margaret  stole  si- 
lently out  of  her  father's  house. 
The  garden  and  lawn  were  flooded  with  moon- 


CENTBAL  PABK. 


,,  _  light,  and  the  sleeping  world  was  happy  in  its 

Margaret — purposely  concealing  the  last  name,  I  dream  of  peace,  but  Margaret  paused  irresolute 


lightning  flash,  and  she  swooned  away.  Sliewaa 
ill  a  delicate  condition  at  the  time,  and  was  con- 
fined to  a  bod  of  lingering,  painful  suffering 
soon  afterward. 

One  morning,  the  final  crushing  blow  came. 
There  came  a  hasty  note  from  her  betrayer.  He 
had  committed  forgery,  was  detected,  and  had 
to  flee  for  his  guilty  life.  Ho  also  made  con- 
fession of  the  manner  in  which  she  had  been  be- 
trayed, and  had  the  heartlcssuesH  to  prop<>He 
that  she  should  go  to  a  friend  of  hie— "  a  perfect 
gentleman  in  every  respect  ''—who  would  take 
good  care  of  her,  and  treat  her  as  his  wife. 

She  sank  beneath  the  crushing  blow,  and  dur- 
ing the  shock  her  child  was  born.  Wlien  she 
was  sufficiently  recovered,  the  landlady  of  the 
house — whose  true  character  liad  ere  this 
dawned  upon  the  wretched  woman— called  upon 
her,  and  spoke  to  her  gently,  but  cruelly. 

The  furniture  had  never  belonged  to  Marston; 
all  the  splendor  by  which  the  country-bird  had 
been  caged  was  another's;  there  were  already 
largo  arrears  of  rent  and  attendance,  and  the 
apartments  must  be  vacated.  Away  was  hinted 
at  whereby  they  might  be  easily  retained,  but 
aiargaret  rejected  the  proposition  with  spirit  and 
pride. 

She  removed  to  humbler  rooms,  sold  most  of 
her  wardrobe,  and  for  a  short  time  was  enabled 
to  support  herself  and  little  one.  She  was  too 
delicate  and  inexperienced  to  work,  and  one  by 
one,  dress  by  dress,  her  jewels  and  wardrobe 
disappeared,  until  almost 
nothing  was  left;  and,  with, 
her  baby  in  her  arms,  she  at 
last  wandered  the  etreeta. 
What  a  desert  they  are,  in 
spite  of  their  busy  crowds, 
when  one  is  penniless  and 
homeless. 

At  length,  from  the 
depths  of  her  moaning 
heart,  there  was  reached 
forth  a  yearning  to  look 
once  more  upon  the  old 
farm-house,  the  sweet 
home  of  the  innocent  past. 
She  had  just  enough 
money  to  make  the  trip, 
and  return;  and  it  was 
again  in  the  silent  beauty 
of  a  sweet  midsummer 
night  that  she  found  her- 
self at  the  entrance  of  the 
well-remembered  garden. 
She  stole  timidly  up  the 
light-flooded  walks — every 
object  of  which  was  famil- 
iar — took  a  refreshing 
draught  at  the  dear  old 
well,  and  then  crept  stealth- 
ily into  the  shadow  of  that 
doorway  from  which  she 
had  stepped  mto  the 
treacherous  moonlight 
scarce  a  year  before. 

She  grasped  the  old-fash- 
ioned brazen  knocker,  and 
now  stood  irresolutely  as 
then,  and,  in  a  moment,  as 
great  with  fate  as  then. 
All  might  be  forgiven,  if 
she  would  but  enter;  life 
might  yet  be  bright  and  cheerful,  should  she  but 
sound  that  old  brass  lion-head  against  the  dingy 


as  her  heart-broken  parents  are  still  living  iu 
ithe  western  part  of  New  York. 

THE  STOBV   OF  MABGABET. 

Margaret,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  was  the  beauty 
and  belle  of  the  county  in  which  her  father  was 
one  of  the  most  well-to-do  farmers. 

She  was  just  blossoming  into  the  glory  and 
charm  of  womanhood — tall  for  her  age,  and 
graceful  as  a  fawn.  Her  eyes  were  large,  blue 
and  melting,  her  hair  of  crisp,  bright  gold,  and 
«her  sweet  oval  face  meet  for  the  study  of  a 
'painter.  These  advantages  of  person,  added  to  a 
singularly  sprightly,  and  amiable,  though  not 
very  well  balanced  disposition,  rendered  her  un- 
rivaled in  the  rustic  and  village  circles  in  which 
she  moved.  There  was  no  foot  so  light  as  Mar- 
garet's in  the  dance,  no  laugh  so  merry  in  the 
sleighing  party,  no  wit  so  sparkling  in  the  sea- 
son's merrymakings. 

There  was  not  a  young  swain  in  the  country 
far  around  who  was  not  in  love  with  her,  and 
who  would  not  gladly  have  married  her;  but 
Margaret,  with  the  capricious  consciousness  of 
beauty,  was  not  easy  to  win,  and  the  susceptible 
bosom  of  rustic  masculinity  sighed  in  vain. 

But  there  is  a  turning-point,  a  pivotal  moment 
in  the  life  of  every  woman  which  makes  her  des- 
-tiny  lor  good  or  evil,  and  just  at  this  period  of 


in  the  dark  shadow  of  the  doorway.  It  was  that 
one  single,  pivotal  moment,  her  o\vn  decision  of 
which  was  to  define  the  course  of  a  life-time. 

She  faltered  but  an  instant  iu  hesitation, 
stepped  from  the  shadow  in  the  moonlight,  and 
was  lost  forever. 

The  dark  grove  that  skirted  the  near  railway 
station  was  gained,  he  was  there,  the  eastward 
thundering  train  came  rushing  in,  and  in  an- 
other moment  parent,  homo,  honor,  everything, 
was  forgotten,  as  the  fair  young  head  of  Margaret 
drooped  in  slumber  upon  her  deceiver's  breast. 

After  the  performance  of  a  sham  marriage 
contract — which  the  trusting  woman,  of  course, 
imagined  to  be  correct — Marston  introduced  her 
into  apartments  whose  elegance  was  most  un- 
usual and  dazzling,  made  her  acquainted  with 
friends  as  brilliant  and  fascinating  as  herself, 
and  for  a  while  the  intoxication  of  her  first  love- 
dream  was  perfect  and  complete. 

Slowly  but  surely  the  spell  was  broken.  The 
passion  of  her  lover  having  spent  its  novel  force, 
he  grew  first  cold,  then  indifferent,  and  then 
brutal.  He  would  remain  away  all  night,  and 
sometimes  for  days  and  nights,  and  upon  his  re- 
turn answer  her  meek  questions  with  oaths. 

Once  ho  struck  her,  and  then  she  gave  a  sharp, 
quick  cry,  like  a  wounded  thing,  the  extent  and 
fullness"  of  her  misery  broke  upon  her  with  a 


plate. 

For  an  instant  she  lingered,  with  the  knocker 
in  her  hand,  irresolutely,  with  shame,  pride,  and 
true  feeling  contending  for  the  mastery;  and  then 
letting  it  fall  from  her  hand,  she  wrapped  her 
little  one  closer  to  her  breast,  and,  with  a  low, 
moaning  cry,  fled  from  the  house,  cut  of  the 
garden,  out  into  the  world,  and,  a  second  time, 
was  lost. 

Her  baby  died  shortly  after  her  return  to  the 
city.  Her  beauty  attracted  the  attention  of  a 
man  of  wealth,  'and  at  last,  broken-hearted, 
broken-spirited,  she  yielded  to  his  importunities, 
and  thus  thoroughly  inaugurated  her  passage 
down  the  stairway  whose  steps  are  so  slippery 
and  steep.  From  one  to  another  she  passed, 
and  from  one  phase  of  infamy  to  another — down, 
down,  down! 

It  was  during  one  of  her  momentary  fits  of  re- 
pentance that  1  had  first  met  her. 

After  her  transfer  to  the  West,  and  afler  her 
final  fall  from  grace,  she  had  passed  as  an  ad- 
venturess through  Cuba,  England,  France,  and 
Germany,  and,  finally,  returned  to  New  York,  a 
helpless",  wretched  inebriate. 

I  could  tell  much  more  minutely  her  history, 
but  would  here  prefer  to  draw  the  vail,  since  her 
end  in  the  hospital  has  already  been  described. 

But  ever  amce  her  Uiatory  baa  come  to  my 


16 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


knowledge,  1  haye  never  eeen  any  of  these  un- 
fortunates, without  sighing  for  the  angel  that  was 
sacrificed  in  the  fall  of  many  of  them. 


A  NIGHT  IN  WATER  STREET. 

Dr.  Eusha  Habris,  late  Registrar  of  Vital 
Statistics  in  this  city,  and  now  Secretary  of  the 
Prison  Association  of  New  York,  made  a  special 
study  of  mysterious  cases  of  supposed  suicide 
for  years,  and  in  a  conversation  with  the  writer 
declared  his  behef  that  a  large  proportion  of  the 
cases  of  mysterious  deaths  that  go  on  the  records 
of  the  city  as  suicides  were  really  skillfully 
planned  murders  by  gangs  of  men  and  women 
who  make  murder  and  robbery  a  business. 

AJong  the  streets  bordering  upon  the  river, 
or  in  adjacent  streets,  such  as  Water  and  Cher- 
ry, are  located  many  places  of  infamy. 
"  Investigations  made  in  a  very  large  number  of 
cases  where  bodies  have  been  found  floating  in 
the  water  showed  that  the  victims  were  last  seen 
alive  in  the  company  of  female  frequenters  of 
these  dens  of  the  metropolis  or  in  tne  dance- 
houses.  In  most  cases  of  this  kind  no  valuables 
of  any  account  were  found  upon  the  remains  and 
rarely  any  external  injuries  were  developed  in 
a  post-mortem. 

These  facts  led  Dr.  Harris  to  the  conclusion 
that  many,  if  not  all,  had  been  inveigled  into  the 
low  resorts  by  women,  where  they  were  drugged 
to  death  by  some  subtle  poison  administered  in 
liquors,  and  then,  in  the 
silent  hours  of  the  night, 
the  inanimate  body,  after 
being  stripped  of  money 
and  valuables,  would  be 
carried  by  the  male  mur- 
derers to  an  adjacent  dock 
and  quietly  dumped  into 
the  river.  In  due  time  the 
remains  would  be  carried 
to  the  anrlace  and  found  by 
a  boatman  or  the  river  po- 
lice. The  deadly  drug  had 
left  no  tell-tale  mark.  The 
police  would  investigate, 
and  that  was  the  end  of  the 
matter. 

So  impressed  was  I  with 
the  conclusions  arrived  at 
by  Dr.  Harris  that  I  com- 
municated with  a  personal 
fnend  on  the  detective 
force  my  suspicions  that  a 
certain  house  m  Water 
Street,  which  I  had  occa- 
sion to  pass  as  late  as  2 
A.  M.  daily,  was  a  den 
of  tliieves  of  this  class.  He 
readily  consented  to  join 
me  in  an  effort  to  discover 
something  positive  regard- 
ing the  place,  which  was  a 
resort  of  abandoned  wo- 
men, sailors  and  country- 
men,  with  a  bar  attached. 
One  night  at  11:IW,  dressed 
and  disguised  as  Jersey 
countrymen,  Detective  'I*, 
and  r  entered  the  main 
room  on  the  floor  even  with  the  street.  In  it 
were  four  or  Ave  half-drunken  women  and  half- 
a-dozen  sailors.  In  one  comer  was  a  small  bar, 
presided  over  by  a  villainous-looking,  pock- 
marked ex-convict,  and  in  another  corner  was  a 
fiddler  playing  for  the  dancers.  We  spent 
money  freely  in  treating  all  hands,  talked  aoout 
the  price  of  country  "truck,"  and  the  b;st  mar- 
ket in  which  to  sell,  and  promised  to  go  around 
aext  day  after  we  had  sold  our  produce  and  have 
I  good  time  all  around,  remarking  that  we 
ranted  the  fiddler,  so  we  could  have  a  dance. 

The  convict  boss  of  this  den  chuckled  at  the 
p.«oi)oeition  and  readily  assented  to  the  further 
pt'jposition  that  no  "sailor  fellers"  should  be 
admitted  while  we  were  guests,  as  we  weren't 
used  to  "  thar  rough  ways,"  and  wanted  to  have 
"  a  cli^ar  swarth  all  to  ourselves." 

A  liiHe  betore  noon  on  the  following  day,  well 
disguised,  we  entered  the  resort.  But  two  wo- 
men aud  the  proprietor  were  there,  and  an  air  of 
quietuda — in  striKing  contrast  to  the  boisterous 
secret  of  the  previous  night— pervaded  the  place. 

Eaoh  of  us  had  provided  ourselves  with  a 
sponge,  hi'dden  away  inside  of  our  coat-sleeves, 
and,  as  w*  had  previously  arranged  to  drink 
nothing  bu<  small  glasses  of  wine,  it  was  an  easy 
matter  by  a  dexterous  movement  to  deposit  the 
contents  after  taking  it  from  the  glass,  into  the 
sponges.  Mr  companion  drank  freely,  or  at 
least  appeared  to  drink,  displaved  considerable 

aioaey,  aud  alter  tbe  fiddler  bad  been  eeut  for 


and  the  doors  were  locked,  indulged  in  several 
waltzes. 

An  hour  was  thus  passed,  when,  to  all  appear- 
ances, the  "  Jersey  farmers"  were  "  pretty  well 
fuddled,"  80  well  had  we  simulated  intoxicated 
men. 

As  our  object  was  to  see  more  of  the  premises, 
we  offered  no  resistance  when  the  women  urged 
us  to  retire  to  a  rear  room.  There  more  drinks 
were  called  for,  and  in  half  an  hour  we  were 
both  apparently  unconscious  in  a  drugged  and 
drunken  stupor.  The  women  retire^  li'oin  the 
room,  which  was  dimly  lighted  by  the  kerosene 
lamp,  and  we  were  left  side  by" side  on  a  mat- 
trees  in  one  corner  for  some  time.  There  was  a 
pecular  taste  to  the  wine  that  satisfied  us  it  con- 
tained a  drug. 

In  a  little  whUe  "  Big  Charley,"  the  boss,  re- 
turned with  one  of  the  women,  who  passed  as  his 
wife,  and,  stooping  over  us,  he  remarked:  "I'm 
blowed,  Hannah,  if  them  fellers  isn't  good  game. 
Now  you  hold  the  door  an'  hold  the  light,  an'  the 
fiddler  an'  me'll  soon  lay  'em  away  tUl  night. 
They're  well  salted,  and  we'll  fix  tliem  at  mid- 
night, when  all's  still." 

■rho  fiddler  was  called,  and  we,  limp,  and  ap- 
parently insensible,  were  carried  down  a  rickety 
stairway  to  a  sub-cellar  and  qmetly  deposited  on 
the  floor,  which  was  of  stone.  Our  entertamers 
retired,  leaving  the  lamp  burning  dimly. 

My  detective  friend  got  up  and  cautiously  ex- 
plored the  place. 

I  confess  I  was  not  pleased  with  his  report 


ASTOR  nonsF.. 

On  one  side  he  found  a  blind  door  leading  into 
a  dark  passage-way,  which,  from  the  sound  of 
running  water,  he  supposed  to  be  one  of  the  city 
sewers,  through  which  they  carried  their  victims. 
I  was  so  alarmod  that  I  suggested  we  had  seen 
enough,  but  he  was  inexoraole. 

"  Let  us  see  the  end,"  he  said.  "  We  are  well 
armed;  we're  enough  for  them.  Why,  if  I  only 
showed  ray  shield  they'd  beat  a  retreat.  Keep 
quiet  and  watch  me." 

We  did  not  wait  long  in  suspense.  "  Charley  " 
and  the  woman  entered. 

The  former  examined  us  critically,  and,  turn- 
ing to  the  woman,  said:  "You  go  up  and  t«nd 
bar,  if  any  one  drops  in;  send  Lize  down  to 
watch  the  clodhoppers,  and  have  her  pour  a  lit- 
tle more  of  the  "  stuff  "  down  'em  in  half  an  hour. 
I  must  now  go  over  the  river  and  get  Bob  to 
come  over  and  help  me  plant  'em  after  we  close 
in  the  momin'." 

Again  we  were  alone. 

The  detective  whispered  his  plans  to  me,  and 
a  few  minutes  later  the  woman  Lize  came  down 
with  a  bottle  in  her  band,  and,  sitting  down  on 
the  only  chair  in  the  cellar,  engaged  in  the  occu- 
pation "of  knitting. 

Half  an  hour  must  have  passed— to  me  it 
seemed  two  hours — when  the  woman  picked  the 
bottle  up  from  a  shelf  and  walked  deliberately 
over  to  our  corner.  With  closed  eves  I  felt  her 
warm  hand  on  my  forehead;  then  sJie  turned  my 
head  over,  face  upward,  aod  forcing  open  my 


mouth  when  my  companion,  with  a  quick  move- 
ment, threw  himself  over  and  drawing  a  pistol, 
hissed,  "Ah,  Lize!  I've  got  youl  Now  open 
your  head,  and  I'll  blow  it  ofi'!  See  this  shield  ? 
Ha!  ha!  trapped  at  last,  eh  ?  " 

So  sudden  was  the  thing  done  that  the  woman 
crouched  down  quietly,  as  the  detective  threw 
off  a  wig,  and  she  identified  him  as  one  who  had 
twice  arrested  her  for  shoplifting. 

To  be  brief,  the  woman  "Lize  made  a  clean 
breast"  of  the  fact  that  sailors  and  oouutrymen 
were  drugged  and  taken  to  the  sub-cellar,  where 
they  were  visited  by  "  Big  Charley,"  his  wife  and 
two"  men.  "  "  i 

What  disposition  was  made  ot  the  victims  she 
never  knew,  or  professed  to  know  not.  The 
officer  promised  her  protection  if  she  would  aid 
him  in  solving  the  mystery  of  the  removal  of  the 
drugged  victims  who  might  visit  the  place  in 
future,  at  the  same  time  warning  her  that  ho 
would  have  her  watched,  and  it  would  be  useless 
for  her  to  attempt  to  Ueo  the  city.  It  was  also 
arranged  that  when  the  sub-cellar  again  had  an 
occupant  she  was  to  find  means  to  hang  a  white 
cloth  from  the  front  window  as  a  signal,  and  at 
all  events  to  meet  him  at  a  place  appointed  a 
week  hence.  She  then  released  us  tnrough  a 
side  door. 

Daily  the  house  was  watched — no  signal.  The 
trysting  time  arrived,  and  Lize  came  not.  Over 
another  week  passed  without  other  news  of  the 
woman.  It  was  supposed  she  had  escaped  the 
detective's  vigilance.  Reading  the  description 
of  the  body  of  a  drowned 
woman  found  at  Fort  Ham- 
ilton, the  detective  beUeved 
it  was  Lize.  He  went  there 
and  recognized  her  as  the 
Water  Street  woman. 

The  detective  always 
maintained  that  he  be- 
lieved "  Big  Charley  "  and 
his  gang,  suspecting  Lize 
of  treachery,  had  murder- 
ed her  and  thrown  her  body 
into  the  river. 

Shortly   after    this,    my 
fnend,   who   still   had   the 
house  under  surveillance, . 
became  insane,  and  a  few 
months  later  died. 

The  Water  Street  deu 
has  been  demolished  to 
make  way  for  the  Brooklyn 
Bridge,   and    the    inmates 

t  are  scattered.     Yet  I   still 

;  g  ;  firmly  beheve  that  Dr.  Har- 

-  *  ,  ris    was    right,    and    that 

there  still  exists  in  this  city, 
under  the  verj-  eyes  of  tho 
police,  one  ormore  organ- 
ized gangs  whose  business 
is  the  inveigling  of 
strangers  into  suspicious 
places,  tho  robbing  of  their 
persons  and  the  consign- 
ment of  their  bodies  to  Ihe 
waters  of  the  rivers  and 
harbor. 

Where  is  the  Vidocq  who 

will  fathom  the  secrets  of 

these  malefactors  V — f'rnui 

"  Glimpses  of  Gofham,"  Published  'j-t/  Biclninl 

K.  Fox. 

•  ♦  ■ 

TEE  CHINESE  AND  ITALIANS. 

Chinatown  is  often  mentioned  in  the  papers. 
Any  one  who  knows  where  Chatham  Stjuare  is, 
could  find  Chinatown  quite  easily.  There  isn't 
much  of  it,  though,  when  it  is  found;  just  one 
end  of  a  shabby  street,  Mott  by  name.  Some 
of  the  houses  are  tenements,  with  dark  halls, 
rickety  doors  and  windows  and  a  perpetual  bad 
smell.  Others  were  once  private  houses,  with 
high  stoops  and  a  moderalely  good  appearance, 
but  now  almost  as  shabby"  as  the  tenements. 
Nearly  everv  house  has  a  sign  in  Chinese  char- 
acters, and  "all  the  dingy  stores  have  strips  of 
vellow  or  red  paper  in  the  windows,  inscribed 
the  same  wav.  Many  of  the  door  posts  bear 
similar  embellishments,  each  and  every  one  of 
which  is  the  most  utterly  incomprehensible 
Greek  to  all  white  barbaria"n8.  Go  into  China- 
town any  time  you  please,  and  you  will  find 
Celestials  on  guard  at  almost  every  doorway. 
Thev  seem  to  be  merely  lounging  abQut,  and  to 
have  no  particular  interest  in  anything,  but 
they  are  watchmg  sharply  all  the  time.  The 
gaiabling  places,  opium  dens  and  lottery  shops 
are  never  without  pickets,  who  eye  all  passers 
very  keenly  and  answer  questions  without  any 
waste  of  words.  "No  sabe,"  is  the  invariable 
reply  to  barbarians  straying  around  with  conun- 


THK    GREAT    EMPIRE   CITY. 


17 


drums.  "As  tight  an  a  clam"  and  ".as  dumb 
aa  an  oyater"  aro  old  phrasca  for  reticence,  but 
"as  close  as  a  Chinaman"  would  Qt  (luito  as 
well.  A  Chinaman  can  tell  a  reporter  by  in- 
stinct, and  is  closer  than  ever  when  a  member 
of  that  worthy  brotherhood  drifts  around  after 
notes.  He  needs  to  be  an  especially  energetic 
reporter  who  penetrates  the  picket  lines  of  a 
Chinese  gambling  den  or  lottery  shop.  The 
barbarian  can  gut  into  an  opium"" joint"  with- 
out much  trouble,  but  the  other  pliices  are  for 
Celestials  alone.  No  one  else  could  understand 
the  games  that  are  played,  or  what  the  queor 
lottery  combinations  mean.  It  is  said  that  both 
the  games  and  the  lotteries  are  all  square,  but 
only  the  Chinese  themselves  know  whether  they 
are  or  not.  They  aro  carried  on  in  dark,  foul 
places,  as  far  from  the  street  as  possible,  and 
only  tlioee  who  know  just  how  to  proceed  can 
get  in  at  all.  The  stores  in  Chinatown  do  not  in- 
vite the  barbarian's  trade.  No  goods  aro  kept 
but  those  whicli  Chinamen  buy.  Very  few  lux- 
uries are  found  in  any,  but  the  Celestial  is  not  a 
luxurious  animal.  Opium  doesn't  cost  much, 
and  the  indulgence  in  it  is  the  height  of  his  ex- 
travagance. 'The  idea  of  luxury  does  not  exact- 
ly harmonize  with  the  hard  fact  of  existence  on 
tifteen  cents  a  day.    As  to 

THE  irCMBER  OF  CHINESE 

In  Gotham,  it  is  not  easy  to  get  at  the  actual  fig- 
ures. Those  in  Chinatown  could  probably  be 
counted,  or  a  lair  guess  made,  anyway;  but  they 
don't  all  live  in  Chinatown,  by  any  means.  That 
place  is  merely  their  headquarters.  The  num- 
uer  scattered  through  other 
parts  of  the  city,  chiefly 
with  a  view  to  laundrv  pro- 
flte,  is  larger,  probaoly, 
than  could  be  counted  in 
Chinatown  itself.  All  the 
way  from  the  Battery  to 
Harlem,  the  whole  eight 
and  a  half  miles  of  Gotham's 
length,  these  unassimilating 
Mongolians  are  to  be  found. 
A  few  years  ago,  when 
there  was  an  outcry  about 
a  Chinese  Invasion,  it  was 
said  the  number  in  New 
York  was  not  less  than 
3,000.  When  the  census 
men  of  1880  came  around, 
however,  they  figured  up 
less  than  1,000.  They  prob- 
ably got  as  near  the  mark 
as  the  guessers,  anyway. 
But  there  has  been  a  con- 
siderable increase  since 
1880,  and  the  present  num- 
ber might  be  put  at  2,000 
for  New  York  City.  Count- 
ing in  those  in  Brooklyn 
and  the  Jersey  suburbs,  tne 
total  may  not  be  far  from 
3,000.  All  are  workers  at 
one  thing  or  another;  there 
are  no  loafers  among  them, 
and  no  doad-beats,  so  far  as  heard  from.  The 
Chinaman's  cardinal  principle  is  to  earn  his  liv- 
ing, which  shows  a  vast  abj'sm  of  difference  be- 
xween  him  and  some  proud  Caucasians.  But 
then,  if  he  can  live  on  fifteen  cents  a  day,  the 
earning  should  not  be  very  hard.  There  are 
very  few,  however,  who  don't  pick  up  at  least 
two  dollars  a  day  one  way  or  another,  and  some 
contrive  to  make  from  three  to  five  dollars. 

THE   rCALIANS. 

In  point  of  health,  at  least,  manvof  the  Italian 
tenements  are  more  dangerous  than  any  of  the 
crowded  and  nauseating  Chinese  dens  in  Mott 
Street.  A  single  house  in  Mulberry  Street  is  oc- 
cupied by  nearly  200  Italians,  and  there  are 
many  others  in  other  streets  packed  with  these 
people  in  the  same  way.  The  occupants  are  all 
of  the  poorest  and  of  the  lowest  class,  and  they 
seem  to  have  no  thought  at  all  of  comfort  or  even 
of  common  decency  in  their  mode  of  living.  Beds 
are  unknown  luxuries  in  some  of  the  Italian  tene- 
ments. An  officer  who  entered  one  found  the 
floor  covered  so  thickly  with  human  beings  that 
he  could  not  move  about  without  stepping  on  a 
sleeper.  It  was  the  same  on  each  floor,  even 
down  to  the  cellar.  No  particular  complaint  can 
be  made  of  this  class  of  Italians  on  the  score  of 
morality,  except  that  most  of  them  are  always 
too  ready  to  stab;  but  their  manner  of  hving, 
like  animals  huddled  in  a  pen,  is  abominable. 
Sometimes  three  or  four  famihes  occupy  a  single 
room,  and  not  only  that,  but  occupy  it  in  com- 
pany with  a  midcellaneous  collection  of  rags,  old 
n-»-ser,  and  dirty  scraps  of  all  kinds  gathered  in 

&w  Btrcete  durisg  (b«  tiiy,  w^  oftea  reeking 


with  filth  from  the  gutters.  Yet  there  is  good 
physical  material  even  among  these  people,  as 
any  one  may  see  by  looking  at  thcin.  Many  of 
the  men  are  sturdy  follows,  well  put  together, 
and  many  of  the  women  have  fine  forms  and 
good  faces.  And  it  should  be  said,  too,  that 
nearly  all  are  industrious.  They  work  at  one 
thing  or  another  as  steadily  as  any  class,  and 
most  of  them  know  how  to  save  money,  even 
out  of  their  small  earnings.  If  they  could  be 
taught  to  live  in  a  civilized  way,  not  mnch  fault 
could  be  found  with  them  for  other  things. 


NIGHT  BESSAES. 

The  following  graphic  pen-picture  of  that 
wretched  class  ot  our  population  known  as 
"Night  Beggars"  was  written  by  Nathan  D. 
Urner,  and  appeared  some  years  since  in  the 
Kew  York  Weekhj: 

Out  from  the  shadow  of  the  deep,  dark  area— 
in  the  very  noon  of  the  starless,  soundless  night 
— out  from  the  black  mouth  of  the  tunnel-like 
alleyway— right  across  one's  path,  as  one  is  hur- 
rying home,  after  long  hours  of  exhausting  labor 
with  the  quill,  she  nits,  ragged  and  ghostly  in 
the  moonlight,  or  still  more  startling  in  the  flick- 
ering glare  of  the  gas-lamp— the  Night  Beggar 
of  the  streets. 

There  is  nothing  about  her  to  identify  her  with 
others  of  her  class  or  aex. 

The  gaudy  pretensions  of  the  "  street-walker  " 
do  not  show  tnemselves  in  the  poor,  ragged  gar- 
ment which  she  draws  so  shiveringly  round  her 


METBOPOLITAN   HOTEL. 

wasted  form.  Her  lips  are  amileless;  there  is 
no  ghastly  attempt  at  mirth,  or  rollicking  good 
nature  in  the  large  hollow  eyes  which  speak  of 
hunger  and  destitution,  as  eyes  alone  can  speak; 
and  the  wan,  thin  hand,  so  tremblingly,  beseech- 
ingly extended,  is  that  of  pure  beggary — without 
the  barest  profession  of  giving  anything  in  value 
received  for  that  which  it  wildly  craves. 

Out  from  the  alleyway,  out  from  the  area — Plu- 
tonian black  and  dismal — and  out  from  the  ahad- 
ow  of  the  street  corner,  have  I  had  that  wild,  ap- 
pealing hand  thruat  to  me  from  the  darkness. 
Almoat  a  beggar  myaelf  at  all  times,  I  have  not 
always  been  able  to  gratify  the  clutching  eameat- 
neaaof  that  clammy  palm,  but  my  heart  has 
gone  out  to  its  owner  strangely  and  yearningly, 
and,  thus  excited,  my  imagination  has  kept  me 
awake  manv  a  night,  with  speculations  aa  to  the 
causes  which  prompted,  the  circumstances  which 
led,  and  the  state  of  society  that  superinduced 
so  many  girls  and  women  "to  that  condition  of 
wretchedneaa  which  makes  them,  under  the 
domination  of  this  article,  "  Night  Beggars." 

The  majority  of  our  population — who  are  fa- 
miliar enough  with  the  various  features  of  day 
beggary,  including  men  and  women  of  all  ages 
and  conditions — have  little  knowledge  of  these 
children  of  darkness,  who  are,  nevertheless,  akin 
to  the  general  fraternity. 

Yet  our  night  beggars  are  a  distinct  class. 
They  are  rarely  to  be  seen  before  nine  o'clock  in 
the  evening,  and  they  haunt  the  atreets  till  the 
stars  begin  to  pale  along  the  sky.  In  a  great 
city  like  New  Y'ork,  the  night  hath  its  wanderers, 
as  well  aa  the  day,  and  it  is  to  the  hearts  of  tlieae 
that  the  profeeeibnal  night  beggar  appeals.    She 


commences  work  at  the  entrance  of  tbaatres,. 
nimatrol  halls,  and  other  places  of  amusement, 
and  then  continues  her  vocation  at  any  conveni- 
ent shadow-hole  bordering  upon  some  great 
thoroughfare. 

In  the  course  of  my  journalistic  experience  I 
havo  made  the  acquaintance  of  several  girls  who 
may  come  under  the  general  classification  of  this 
article,  and  the  history  of  one  or  two  of  them  ia 
fraught  with  a  homely  romance. 

The  one  I  remenibor  moat  intimately  used  to 
accoat  mc  almost  nightly  near  the  comer  of  Lis- 
ponard  Street  and  Broadway.  I  was  always  lalc- 
on  the  street — from  midnight  {p  three  in  tho 
morning— and  I  shall  never  forget  the  sensaliou 
her  first  appearance  caused  mo,  aa  she  glided 
out  ao  noiseless  and  ghost-like  from  the  shadow 
of  the  wall,  and  besought  my  charity  with  out- 
stretched palm. 

The  face  was  a  pale  one — dead  pale.  The  eves 
were  deep,  black,  shining  holes  in  the  face.  Thc- 
hair — jet  nlack— was  very  luxuriant,  though  that 
of  a  girl,  for  tho  owner  could  scarcely  have  been 
over  eighteen.  My  route  was  so  regular,  her 
station  so  constant,  that  a  sort  of  intimacy  grew 
up  between  us,  and  one  evening  I  loitered  some 
momenta,  and  queationed  her: 
'•^Q^t  is  your  name  ?  " 
"  Cjnevieve  Marston." 

It  was  a  beautiful  name,  and  I,  not  doubting 
that  it  was  fictitious,  paused,  thinking  that  she 
too  had  caught  the  maudlin  sentimentalisni 
which  lends  tne  lie  to  the  lips  of  the  outcast, 
when  she,  perceiving  my  mood,  said  quickly: 
"It  is  my  real  name,  sir.  I  have  bed  very 
often.  Heaven  knows,  but  "I 
would  not  to  one  who  has 
been  kind  and  generous  to 
me,  as  yon  have." 
~--.  From'that  time  on  through 

^  -.  a  long  winter,  in  my  lonely 

walk  homeward,  I  alway's 
tried  to  have  ten  cents  "in 
my  pocket  for  the  benefit  of 
Genevieve,  of  the  comer  of 
Lispenard  StreetandBroad- 
way.  Sometimes  I  would 
have  nothing,  and,  as  she 
would  flit  out  before  me 
from  tho  bosom  of  her  cor- 
ner-shadow, I  would  3aT: 

"  Flat  broke,  Genevieve, 
and  hungry  myself." 

Once,  as  I  said  this,  the 
snow  was  deep  upon  the 
ground,  and  the  north  wind 
whistled  bitterly.  She 
looked  poorer  and  more 
miserable  than  I  had  ever 
seen  her.  But  she  sprang 
after  me  quickly  and  ex- 
claimed: 

"  You  hungry,  too!  Take 
some  of  mine,  won't  you? 
I  have  eaten  all  I  can.'"' 

She  thrust  a  crust  of  bread 
at  me — gnawed  at  the  edges 
aa  if  by  hungry,  ay,  raven- 
ous teeth,  while  in  her  own  dark,  hollow  eyes, 
in  every  furrow  which  wretchedness  and  desti- 
tution had  plowed  in  her  young  face,  I  read  the 
great  famine  that  was  clutching  at  her  heart.  At 
first  I  was  humiliated  by  the  offer,  but  there  was 
something  so  thoroughly  noble  in  the  charity  ex- 
tended to  me  that  I  sp'eedily  lost  all  other  feel- 
ings in  contemplating  it. 

She  was  not  a  bad-looking  girl.  Youth  and 
beauty  still  gleamed  at  intervals  through  the 
mask  of  misery  and  long,  unfruitful  years;  but 
it  was  her  white,  shining  soul  that  I  could  see, 
as  I  then  and  there  took  her  two  bands  in  mine 
and  gazed  down  into  those  poor  eyes — ao  beauti- 
fully dark,  so  unnaturally  bright — where  the 
aweetness,  the  genius  of  woman,  dwelt,  still  per- 
fect, still  ahining  after  the  terrible  ordeal  of  her 
destiny. 

"Why  do  you  beg,  Gtenevieve  ?— and  why  do- 
you  be^  at  night  ?  " 

I  said  it  to  her  ao  earnestly  aa  not  to  leave  any 
room  for  the  studiedly  piteous  falsehood  which 
might  otherwise  have  arisen  to  her  lips. 

"  I  beg,"  she  replied.  "  for  the  man  I  love, 
who  is  at  the  point  of  death.  Look  at  me — look 
at  these  rags  that  cover  me,  and  say  how  I  should 
venture  to  appear  in  Heaven's  sunlight.  This  is- 
why  I  beg  at  nitjht."  • 

She  wrung  my  hand,  dove  into  her  shadows  oi 
the  corner  angles,  and  vanished  from  mv  sight. 

For  a  number  of  nights  thereafter  I  missed 
Genevieve.  But  one  wild  night,  with  snow  in 
the  air  and  under  foot,  and  a  shrill  gale  piping 
from  the  sea,  I  met  her  iust  as  I  was  wheeling 
from  Broadway  into  Canal  Street. 
She  was  singularly  forlorn.    Even  the  wor» 


1'8 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


"plaid  ehawl  she  had  been  accustomed  to  wear 
over  her  hea,d  and  shoulders,  in  the  cold  term, 
•was  absent.  Her  long  hair  was  loose,  and  blow- 
ing out  in  the  wind.  Her  general  demeanor  was 
■that  of  desperation  and  bewilderment. 

She  importuned  two  or  three  night-farers  who 
■were  before  me  without  success,  and  then  fell 
upon  me. 

"  Just  a  little — ever  so  little!  "  she  exclaimed, 
wildly. 

And  then  recognizing  me,  ehe  burst  out  with 
a  passionate  feeling  that  would  not  admit  of 
tears: 

"  Oh,  sir,  he  is  dead — dead— dead!  " 

It  was  Saturday  night.  1  did  not  have  tlie 
consciousness  of  a  nest  morning's  resumption  of 
routine  work  starmg  me  in  the  face — was,  in  fact, 
at  comparative  liberty.  Even  if  it  had  been 
otherwise,  there  was  no  resisting  the  appealing 
agony  of  the  poor  woman,  as  she  slipped  down 
on  her  knees  m  the  snow,  and  gave  utterance  to 
that  heartrending  exclamation: 

"  He  is  dead — dead — dead!  " 

I  did  not  say  a  word.  I  lifted  her  gently,  and 
by  my  manner  indicated  that  I  would  follow  her 
to  her  abode.  We  went  to  a  dingy,  dirty  tene- 
ment in  the  neighborhood,  and,  stunying 
through  a  lightless  hallway,  proceeded  up  flight 
after  flight  of  rickety  staircase,  until  we  reached 
the  topmost  floor.  Here  we  entered  a  room, 
dimly  lighted  by  a  tallow  dip. 

It  was  a  strange  room  as  well  as  poor.  There 
"was  a  stove,  with  the  embers  of  a  fire  in  it,  and 
aurroanded  by  a  few  pans,  pots,  skillets,  and 
other  utensils  of  cookery,  though  not  the  slight- 
est sign  of  anything  to  "cook.  In  a  cor- 
ner of  the  wretched  room,  just  below 
the  single  dormer  window,  was  a  table 
littered  with  torn  and  half-written 
manuscripts,  and  on  the  floor,  at  its 
■aide,  were  a  number  of  books— a  die-  -"' 
tionary,  a  thesauris  and  a  dozen  blue-  # 
and-gold  editions  of  the  modern  poets.  S 
There  was  no  carpet  on  the  floor,  and 
the  spiders  had  woven  their  festoons 
upon  the  ceiling. 

In  the  dark  corner  of  the  gaiTCt  was 
an  iron  bedstead,  miserably  furnished, 
considering  the  severity  of  the  season. 
Upon  this  lay  the  corpse  of  a  man,  of 
thirty  years  or  more.  The  face  was 
handsome  and  noble  in  the  extreme, 
but  emaciated,  as  by  long  sufl'eriug  and 
■want.  But  the  close-curling  dark  hair 
clustered  around  the  transparent  tem- 
ples, and  over  the  clear,  still  brow,  in 
a  way  that  reminded  one  of  a  flue  portrait 
of  the  past. 

But  the  passionate  exclamation  of  the 
"  Night  Beggar "  was  none  the  less 
true.    He  was  dead — dead — dead! 

She  bent  over  the  poor  clay,  and 
kissed  it  wildly,  impassionedly  — 
cheeks,  lips  and  eyelids.  Then  she 
turned  to  nie,  and  said: 

"Do  you  know  what  that  is  Iving 
there?  It  isn't  a  dead  man— it's  a  dead 
poet!  He  was  a  poet  in  every  sense 
of  the  word.  His  voice  was  sweet — oh, 
how  sweet!  Everv  action  of  his  life 
was  m  harmony  with  the  poesy  of  the  man 
also  made  money  enough  for  us  to  live  on- 
while.  It  was  five  dollars  now,  ten  dollars  here, 
and,  now  and  then,  twenty  dollars  there,  and  we 
lived  comfortably,  for  he  was  good  and  kmd  to 
me  at  all  times.  But  he  drank,  and,  at  last,  was 
cast  upon  this  bed,  from  which  he  has  never 
arisen.  It  was  paralysis.  At  first,  he  would 
crawl  out  every  day,  and  write  a  poem,  or  a 
sketch,  by  the  sale  of  which  I  could  manage  to 
get  fuel  lor  our  fire,  as  the  saying  goes;  but  at 
last  he  evtti  lost  this  power.  His  Iriends  desert«d 
>  him,  and^  became  a  beggar  for  him.  I  was  a 
day  beggar — a  genteel  beggar  at  first;  but  the 
steps  of  degradation  are  inexorable,  and  at  the 
last  I  became  a  '  Night-Beggar  '  for  his  sake — for 
his  Rake!  Oh,  Heaven!  the  game  is  up!  He  is 
dead — dead — dead! " 

It  would  have  been  an  insult  to  her  grief  to 
question  its  sincerity.  It  was  so  earnest  as  to  re- 
buke inquiry. 

"  OhI  moaned  the  poor  girl,  throwing  herself 
on  the  dead  body,  and  kissing  the  dead  nice  with 
a  wild,  passionate  sorrow;  "  they  have  done 
their  worst  bj  you.  Jack,  Jack!  My  poor,  dead 
darling!  They  may  sneeringly  call  you  'Bo- 
hemian '  and  '  pennv-a-liner '  now!  They  cannot 
barm  yon  more!  l!>ead — dead— dead!  "Do  you 
know  what  killed  him  ?"  she  suddenly  exclaimed, 
apringiug  to  her  feet  in  a  sort  of  fury.  "They 
may  hold  an  inquest,  and  say  he  died  of  this,  or 
that,  or  that;  but  I  say  he  has  starved  to  death! 
His  poems  may  gem  the  albums  of  the  rich  and 
great,  bet  he  ■was  starved  to  death!    They  may 


repeat  his  jokes,  and  talk  of  his  sparkling  wit  in 
their  parlors  and  clubs,  but  he  was  starved  to 
death!  I  stand  here  before  Heaven — here  on  the 
brink  of  the  hell-on-earth,  which  must  be  my 
doom — and  swear  it  eternally:  He  was  Stabved 
TO  Death!  " 

She  rolled  over  in  a  fit,  with  the  red  foam  on 
her  lips.  I  resuscitated  her  as  speedily  as  I 
could,  gave  her  all  the  money  I  had,  and  after 
promising  to  call  on  the  following  day,  hurried 
away. 

But  on  the  following  morning,  a  note  from  the 
managing  editor  of  the  newspaper  on  which  1 
was  employed,  ordered  me  to  the  Capital  at 
once — barely  giving  me  time  to  pack  my  valise. 

When  1  returned,  a  week  later,  the  poet's  gar- 
ret was  deserted,  and  Genevieve  had  disap- 
peared. I  have  never  seen  her  since,  but  often 
m  my  dreams,  I  see  that  white,  imploring  hand 
stretched  out  to  me  through  the  horror  and  the 
mystery  of  these  Shadow-Scenes;  and  that  wild 
cry,  "  Starved  to  death!  Dead — dead — dead!  "  is 
still  ringing  in  my  ears. 


THE  DESEBVIKS  FOOE  AND  THE  IMFOS- 
TOES. 


"  Chabitt  covers  a  multitude  of  sins,  does  it 
not  ?  "  said  a  reporter  to  the  superintendent  of 
the  Charity  Organization  Society,  as  a  tramp  en- 
tered the  room  with  a  letter  purporting  to  oe  a 
recommendation  from  a  prominent  citizen. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  answered  the  gentleman,  ey- 
ing the  tramp  sharply,  and  so  ao  the  bats  "of 


.    He 

-for  a 


THE   STAATS-ZErrrNO   BUILDINO. 

many  of  our  applicants  for  aid.  Call  around 
some  time  and  sit  here  for  an  hour  and  you  will 
see  more  needy  people  of  all  grades  of  poverty 
than  could  be  uescriued  in  a  volume." 

THE   OBJECT    OF  THE   SOCIETT. 

"  What  is  the  object  of  the  society  ?  " 
"  The  society  does  not  give  alms  save  in  ex- 
ceptional cases.  Its  chief  object  is  the  equal  dis- 
trioution  of  the  money  now  given  to  the  poor  by 
the  wealthy  people  of  our  city.  According  to  the 
present  way  of  aispensing  alms  some  of  the  pro- 
fessional mendicants  who  make  a  business  of 
begging  get  all  the  charity,  wlule  the  more  sen- 
sitive are  left  to  perish  in  their  pride.  We  pro- 
pose to  investigate  all  applications  for  aid  and  re- 
port upon  the  merit  of  the  applicant,  thus  the 
money  donated  goes  to  the  place  where  it  does 
the  greatest  good  to  the  greatest  number.  Only 
recently  a  lady  called  here  and  asked  us  to  in- 
vestigate the  case  oi  a  man  whose  alleged  sick 
wife  and  family  she  had  supplied  with  money  for 
more  than  six  months.  When  we  investigated 
the  case  we  found  that  the  fellow  had  no  family 
at  all  and  made  a  good,  lazy  living  by  imposing 
upon  the  credulity  of  several  wealthy  persons. 
The  indiscriminate  distribution  of  alms  spoils 
the  needy,  and  after  a  time  they  become  so  used 
to  it  that  they  find  it  the  easiest  way  to  live  with- 
out work.  By  our  method  this  is  impossible;  we 
investigate  the  case,  grive  temporary  relief,  then 
provide  work  for  the  able-bodied  and  homes  and 
nospitals  for  the  sick  and  aged  and  those  unable 
to  work." 


"Who  are  the  greatest  impostors  you  have  to 
deal  with  ?  " 

"  The  tramps  rank  first,  and  I  can  say  that  80 
per  cent,  of  these  are  unworthy  of  aid.  They 
usually  come,  hke  the  one  you  saw  with  a  frayeS 
letter  or  hospital  discharge,  and  ask  for  work — 
they  want  no  aid.  '  Give  us  work,'  is  the  crv. 
When  I  make  out  a  slip  with  the  address  of  some 
one  who  will  give  employment  to  a  needy  man, 
they  take  it  eagerly,  and  as  they  start  to  go  they 
turn  round  and  use  such  means  as  these:  '  I'm 
so  hungry  that  I'm  afraid  I  can't  walk  to  the 
place;  won't  you  give  me  car-fare  ? '  or,  '  My  leg 
isn't  healed  yet,  but  the  doctor  says  I'll  be  all 
right  in  a  day  or  so;  can't  you  give'me  the  price 
of  a  bed  and  a  meal,  so  that  I'll  have  new 
strength  ? '  Next,  and  the  most  shame-faced 
impostor,  is  the  '  temporarily  distressed  lady  of 
good  family,  whose  child  just  died,  and  who'has 
a  horror  of  the  Potter's  Field.'  Why,  only  a  few 
weeks  ago  a  lady  came  to  me  weeping  profusely 
(they  always  do),  and  asked  for  assistance  to 
bury  her  child;  $5  was  all  she  wanted,  '  a  friend 
would  subscribe  the  rest.'  On  looking  for  the 
house  she  said  she  lived  in,  an  empty  lot  was 
found." 

DESEBviNa  or  cHABrrr. 

"  What  do  you  do  for  the  real  worthy  ?  " 
"  When  we  find  a  real  worthy  indmdual  wc 
send  to  the  various  aid  societies,  and  they  give 
temporary  relief,  and  provide  employment  ae 
soon  as  possible.  If  they  are  sick,  besides  being 
destitute,  we  give  medical  advice,  and  often 
remedies.  Should  the  case  require  care  more 
than  medicine,  then  we  provide  good  hos- 
pital accommodation  for  them.' 

"  In  what  district  is  poverty  the  great- 
est?" 

"The  lower  wards  generally,  although 

a   good    deal  is  scattered  all  over  the 

city.    It  is  a  mistaken  idea  that  the  des- 

J,     titution  is  as  great  as  pictured  generally; 

zi     most  of  it  IS  due  to  chronic  alms-aaking, 

L-     and  no  desu-e  for  work." 


THE   C.^CSE    or    WANT. 

"  What  is  the  great  cause  of  want  ?  " 

"Low  gin-mills,  where  the  parents 
apend  the  money,  if  iudiciously  expend- 
ed, would  comfortably  provide  for  their 
families." 

"  Is  it  true  that  many  real  worthy  peo- 
ple are  never  reached  by  you  ?" 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  this  is  so,  and 
oflen  we  find  needy  people  from  neigh- 
bors who  have  long  seen  the  faces 
pinched  with  want,  and  they  come  here 
and  report  to  us.  On  several  occasions 
I  have  visited  such  as  these,  offered  aid 
and  met  with  a  refusal  to  accept  it  on  the 
CTound  that  there  was  no  necessity  for  it. 
Such  people  as  these  ought  to  get  more 
than  a  share  of  what  is  yearly  g^ven  in 
charity." 

CAUSES  OF   NEED. 


"  What  are  the  unavoidable  causes  of 
need?" 
"Sickness,  lack  of  employment,  and 
often  robbery." 
"  What  do  yon  mean  bv  robbery?  " 
"Such  cases  as  the  following:  Not  long  ago  a 
lady  with  her  child  was  traveling  from  the  West 
to  hoston.    Between    Elizabeth  and  New  York 
she  was  robbed  of  her  purse  and  ticket,  and 
reached  here  perfectly  destitute.    She  applied  to 
us,  and  we  gave  her  comfortable  lodgings  for  the 
night,  and  on  the  morrow  she  was  provided  with 
a  ticket  to  Boston  and  a  little  money  for  expenses 
on  the  trip.     She  promised  to  return  it,  and,  true 
to  her  word,  she  sent  it  back  a  few  days  after." 
"  How  are  you  progressing  in  your  work  ?  " 
"  Very  well;  and  before  many  years  we  will 
have  the  system  so  perfect  that  starvation  and 
abject  poverty  cannot  be  found  in  New  York.  We 
are  fast  adding  new  districts  in  the  six  already 
established  and  soon  the  whole  city  will  be  cov- 
ered by  branch  oflSces  directed  from  the  head- 
quarters." 


LITE  AMON&  THE  LOWLY. 

The  following  entertaining  chapter  is  from 
Matthew  Hale  Smith's  "  Sunshine  and  Shadow 
in  New  York,"  published  by  the  J.  B.  Burr  Pub- 
lishing Co.,  Hartford,  Conn.: 

The  extreme  value  of  land  in  the  city  makes 
tenement-bouses  a  necessity.  Usually  they  oc- 
cupy a  lot  twenty-five  by  one  hundred  feet,  six 
stories  high,  with  apartments  for  fonrfamiles  on 
each  floor.  These  houses  resemble  barracks 
more  than  d^elliogQ  for  families.    One  Btanding 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


1» 


on  a  lot  fifty  by  two  liundred  and  fifty  feet  haB 
apartmentH  for  one  hundred  and  t\yeuty-8ix  fami- 
lies. Nearly  all  the  apartments  are  bo  situated 
that  the  sun  can  never  touch  the  windows.  In  a 
cloudy  day  it  is  impossible  lo  have  sunlight 
enough  to  "read  or  see.  A  narrow  room  and  bod- 
room  comprise  an  apartment.  Families  keep 
boarders  m  these  narrow  quartern.  Two  or  throe 
lanulies  live  in  one  apartment  frequently.  Not 
one  of  the  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  rooms 
can  be  properly  ventilated.  The  vaults  and 
water-closeta  are  disgusting  and  shameful.  Thoy 
are  accessible  not  only  to  the  five  or  six  hundred 
occupants  of  the  building,  but  to  all  who  chose 
to  go  in  from  the  street.  The  water-closets  are 
without  doors,  and  privacy  is  impossible.  Into 
these  vaults  every  imaginable  abomination  is 
poured.  The  doors  from  the  cellar  open  in  the 
vault,  and  the  whole  house  is  impregnated  with 
a  stench  that  would  poison  cattle. 


A  MIOBT  TBAMP. 

With  a  lantern  and  an  officer,  a  visit  to  the 
cellars  where  the  poor  of  New  York  sleep  may 
be  undertaken  with  safety.  Fetid  odors  and 
pestiferous  smells  greet  you  as  you  descend. 
There  bunks  are  built  on  the  side  of  the  room; 
beds  filthier  than  can  be  imagined,  and  crowded 
with  occupants.  No  regard  is  paid  to  age  or  sex. 
Men,  women,  and  children  are  huddled  to- 
gether in  one  disgusting  mass.  Without  a 
breath  of  air  from  without,  these  holes  are 
hot-beds  of  pestilence.  The  landlord  was 
asked,  in  one  cellar: 

"  How  many  can  you  lodge  ?  " 

"We  can  lodge  twenty-five;  if  we  crowd, 
perhaps  thirty." 

The  lodgers  in  these  filthy  dens  seem  to 
be  lost  to  all  moral  feeling,  and  to  all  sense 
of  shame.  They  are  not  as  decent  as  the 
brutes.  Drunken  men,  debased  women, 
young  girls,  helpless  children,  are  packed 
together  in  a  filthy,  under-ground  room, 
dentitute  of  light  or  ventilation,  reeking 
with  filth,  and  surrounded  with  a  poisoned 
atmosphere.  The  decencies  of  life  are 
abandoned,  and  blasphemy  and  ribald  talk 
fill  the  place. 

BJiREFOOTED   BEOOAR. 

On  one  of  the  coldest  days  of  winter  two 
girls  were  seen  on  Broadway  soliciting 
alms.  The  larger  of  the  two  awakened 
evmpathv  by  her  destitute  appearunce.  An 
old  hood  covered  her  head,  a  miserable 
shawl  her  shoulders.  Her  shivering  form 
was  enveloped  in  a  nearly  worn-out  dress, 
which  was  very  short,  exposing  the  lower 
part  of  her  limbs  and  feet.  She  had  on 
neither  shoes  nor  stockings.  Nearly  every 
person  that  passed  the  girl  gave  her  some- 
thing. Believing  they  were  impostors,  Mr. 
Halliday  approached  them,  and  demanded 
where  they  lived.  On  being  told,  he  pro- 
posed to  attend  them  home.  They  misled 
him  as  to  their  residence.  They  attempted 
to  elude  him,  and  at  length  the  younger 
said: 

"  Mister,  there  is  no  use  going  any  far- 
ther this  way;  she  don't  live  on  Fifty-third 
Street,  she  lives  on  Twelfth  Street,  and  she 
has  got  shoes  and  stockings  under  her 
shawl." 

She  was  taken  before  a  magistrate,  and 
committed  to  the  Juvenile  Asylum. 

A  STREET  BOY. 

It  is  estimated  that  there  are  over  ten  thou- 
sand street  boys  in  New  York.  They  swarm  along 
our  parks,  markets,  and  landings,  stealing  sugar, 
molasses,  cotton.  They  steal  anything  they  can 
lay  their  hands  on.  They  prowl  through  the 
streets,  ready  for  mischief.  Mr.  Halliday  gives 
an  interesting  account  of  one  of  this  class.  He 
was  the  son  of  a  widow.  He  played  truant,  and 
became  .a  rognilar  young  vagabond.  He  was  one 
of  the  ^oung  Arabs  of  the  city.  Mr.  Halliday 
resolved  to  save  him.  He  introduced  him  into 
the  Home  o'  the  Friendless.  He  ran  away  and 
resumed  his  A  tab  life.  He  was  sought  for,  and 
found  on  one  of  the  wharves.  The  following 
dialogue  took  place: 

"  Where  have  you  been,  Willie  ?  " 

"  Nowhere,  sir." 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  since  you  ran 
ftway  from  the  Home  ?  " 

"Nothing,  sir." 

"  What  have  you  had  to  eat  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  sir." 

"  What!  have  you  eaten  nothing  these  two 
days?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  What  was  that  that  fell  out  of  your  hand  just 
now  when  you  etruck  ftgaiast  your  brother?  " 


"  A  soda-water  bottle." 

"  Where  did  yon  get  it?  " 

"  I  stole  It." 

"  What  were  you  going  to  do  witli  it  ?  " 

"Sell  it." 

"  What  were  you  going  to  do  with  the  money?" 

"  Buy  something  to  eat." 

"  Are  you  hungry?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Whore  have  you  staid  since  you  left  the 
Home  ?  " 

"  On  Tenth  Street." 

"  Whoso  house  did  you  stay  in?  " 

"  Nobody's." 

"  No  one's  house  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

It  had  rained  very  hard  the  uight  previous, 
and  I  asked  him  again: 

"  Where  did  you  stay  last  night?  " 

"  Corner  of  Avenue  A  and  Tenth  Street." 

"  Whose  house  did  you  stay  in?  " 

"  No  one's." 

"But  you  told  me  just  now  you  stopped  last 
night  corner  of  Avenue  A  and  Tenth  Street." 

"So  I  did." 

"  And  you  slept  in  uo  one's  house  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Where  did  you  sleep,  then  ?  " 

"  In  a  sugar  box." 


the  care  of  the  matron.  When  the  trial  came  od, 
it  was  decided  Aliat  the  little  girl  was  too  young; 
to  testify.  Thff  man  pleaded  guilty  of  man- 
slaughter, and  was  sent  to  the  State  Prison.  It 
was  a  happy  day  for  little  Katy  when  she  sat  on 
the  bench  with  those  miserable  women  heanug, 
a  8orm(m  preached.  .She  found  a  kind  friend  iu 
Mr.  Halliday,  and  through  him  obtained  a  happy 
WoHttTii  lioine. 

OKSTEEI.   SUFFKUIXO. 

Sudden  reverses  reduce  well-to-do  people  to- 
poverty.  Sickuess  conies  into  a  household  like 
an  armed  man.  Death  strikes  down  a  father, 
and  leaves  a  family  penniless.  One  day  a  lady 
of  vf-ry  genteel  appearance  called  at  tho  Slissiou. 
Bursting  into  tears,  she  said  to  the  superin- 
tendent: 

"  Sir,  I  have  come  to  ask  tor  assistanoe.  It  u» 
the  first  time  iu  my  life.  I  would  not  now,  but  I 
have  been  driven  to  it.  I  could  bear  hunger  and 
cold  myself,  but  I  could  not  hear  my  children 
cry  for  bread.  For  twenty-four  hours  1  have  not 
had  a  mouthful  for  myself  or  them.  While  there 
was  work,  I  could  get  along  tolerably  well.  I 
have  had  none  tor  some  time;  now  I  must  beg, 
or  my  children  starve." 
Her  husband  had  been  a  mechanic.  He  had 
j  come  to  New  York  from  the  country.  The  family 
lived  in  comfort  till  sickness  stopped  their 
resources,  and  death  struck  the  father 
down.  The  mother  attempted  to  keep  hir 
little  family  together,  and  support  them  by 
her  own  labor.  Five  years  sne  had  toiled, 
planned,  and  suffered.  Her  earnings  were 
small,  and  from  time  to  time  she  sold  arti- 
cles of  furniture  to  give  her  children  bread. 
Over-exertiun,  long  walks  in  rain  and  cold 
to  obtain  work,  insufficient  clothing,  want 
of  nutritious  food,  with  anxiety  lor  her 
children,  prostrated  her.  She  was  obliged 
to  call  for  aid  on  some  of  our  benevolent 
institutions.  She  is  a  specimen  of  hun- 
dreds of  noble  suffering  women  ia  New 
York. 

IMPROVED   TENEMENT  HOTJSES. 

Public  attention  has  lately  been  called  to 
the  filthy  and  overcrowded  pest-houses  in 
the  lower  part  of  the  city,  and  the  result 
has  been  a  great  improvement  in  many  of 
the  old  tenements,  and  the  erection  of  sev- 
eral model  lodging  houses,  which  afford 
clean  and  comfortable  quarters  for  laborers 
and  mechanics,  at  comparatively  reason- 
able rates  of  rent. 


THE  DAEK  SIDE  OF  NEW  YOEZ  LIFE. 


OOBNZR  OF  BROADWAY  AND  WALL  STREET. 

I      "In  a  sugar  box  .'" 
"Yes,  sir." 

"Did  you  not  get  wet  with  the  rain?  " 
"  Yes,  sir." 

"  How  did  you  get  your  clothes  dry  ?  " 
"Stood  up  in  the  sun  until  they  were  dry." 
He    was   again  placed  in   the   Home  of    the 
Friendless;  again  ran  away;  and  finally  was  put 
into  the  Refuge,  as  all  kindness  seemed  to  be 
lost  upon  him. 

A  SAD  SCENE. 

In  the  so-called  chapel  of  the  prison  sits  a  lit- 
tle girl  amid  a  throng  of  dirty,  drunken  women. 
She  is  small,  and  only  seven  years  of  age.  Her 
story  is  told  in  a  single  line — her  father  is  in  the 
Tombs,  her  mother  is  at  the  station-house. 
What  she  calls  her  home  is  a  single  room,  nine 
feet  under  ground,  without  tire,  though  the 
thermometer  is  at  zero.  A  portion  of  an  old 
bedstead,  a  broken  tick  part  full  of  straw,  with  a 
pUlow,  on  which  are  marks  of  blood,  lies  upon 
the  floor.  The  father  was  a  cartman.  He  came 
home  one  night  drunk  and  brutal,  and  knocked 
his  wife  down  with  a  heavy  stick.  Afterwards 
he  stamped  upon  her  with  his  heavy  boots  until 
she  was  unable  to  speak.  The  woman  died  and 
the  man  w.'s  arrested.  The  little  girl  was  sent 
to  the  Tombs  as  a  witness,  and  was  placed  under 


People  living  or  doing  business  in  the 
neighborhood  oT  the  post  office  have  noticed 
an  elderly  man,  apparently  warmly  clad 
and  of  a  refined  appearance,  lounging  about 
the  corners.  He  seemed  to  be  watching  for 
somebody,  and  frequently  entered  tho 
Herald  office  and  eyed  the  clerk  who  han- 
dles the  letters.  So  queerly  did  he  act 
that  the  attention  of  the  police  was  called 
to  him,  for  it  was  feared  ho  was  a  "  crunk  " 
who  might  do  some  one  a  mischief.  An 
investigation  led  to  the  discovery  of  some 
remarkable  facts.  The  old  gentleman  is 
versed  in  several  languages,  was  formerly 
well  off,  and  has  been  largely  engaged^  in 
profitable  business.  Meeting  reverses,  he  came 
to  New  York  in  search  of  employment,  armed 
with  letters  of  recommendation  from  profensors 
in  colleges  and  other  distinguished  people,  ad- 
dressed to  leading  publishing  firms;  yet  h» 
failed,  and  has  for  a  formight  lived  in  the  street, 
and  was  actually  starving  when  the  police  took 
him  in  hand.  I  saw  him  in  the  station-hous© 
last  night. 

"They  tell  me  you  are  destitute  and  in  want 
of  food.  Would  nobody  give  you  anything  to 
eat  ?  " 

"Well,  I  never  asked.  I  went  into  the  Astor 
House  the  other  day  and  saw  three  or  tour  hun- 
dred gentlemen  eating  and  drinking.  They 
were  ordering  beefsteaks,  and  roast  beef,  and 
chicken,  and  oysters,  and  baked  potatoes,  and 
sandwiches,  and  pies,  and  brandy,  whiskey,  and 
ale.  Some  of  them  were  having  partridge  and 
champagne,  and  nearly  all  were  getting  cigars 
when  they  paid  their  "bills.  I  hadn't  touched 
any  food  for  nearly  two  days,  and  it  made  me 
nearly  crazy  with  Lunger  to  see  so  much  to  eat 
and  not  a  penny  in  my  pocket." 

"  But  why  did  you  not  ask  for  help  ?  " 
"  I  did,  biit  the  one  I  spoke  to  swore  at  me  for 
a  tramp,  and  I  lost  all  heart." 

Of  course,  the  old  gentleman  will  be  properly 
cared  for;  but  just  imagine  the  scene  i!\  litiX 


^o 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


gorgeons  lunch  room,  -where  the  ceiling  looks 
like  a  dome  of  molten  gold,  beautifully  pamted 
■with  a  tracery  of  vines  and  foliage,  bearing  the 
frnite  of  the  world!  Think  of  the  feelings  of 
this  poor,  old  man,  as  he  stood  there  among  the 
feaeters,  actually  starving  in  the  midst  of 
plenty  and  wasteful  extravagance.  Did  Tanta- 
lus ever  suffer  such  pangs  as  did  this  homeless, 
hungry  creature  ?  A  penny  from  the  pockets 
of  each  man  iu  that  crowd  would  have  kept  this 
J  man  supphed  with  food  for  three  days;  yet  his 
iJips  are  closed  by  the  brutality  of  perhaps  the 
only  brut«  in  the  gathering.  Need  I  add  any- 
thing to  the  picture  ?  Is  it  not  sombre  enough 
in  black  and  white  ?  Could  the  pencil  of  a  Dove 
Add  anything  to  its  horror  aud  despair?  Yet 
this  scene  is  probably  occurring  almost  every 
day  in  tins  great  city,  where  millionaires  are 
■counted  by  the  hundred,  and  more  money  is 
wasted  in  extravagance  than  is  spent  in  charity. 

A  mother's  despair. 

A  few  years  ago  I  was  standing  on  a  street 
corner  one  bitter,  cold  night,  waiting  for  a  car. 
A  yonng  woman  came  up  and  peered  into  my 
face.  Something  told  her  I  was  in  an  amiable 
mood,  80  she  asked  me  for  half  a  dollar.  The 
demand  was  so  unusual  I  turned  sharply  around 
and  looked  at  the  applicant. 

"  Half  a  dollar!  Tnatis  a  queer  way  to  beg,'' 
was  my  response. 

"Oh,  sir,  I'm  not  begging,  bnt  my  little  chil- 
dren are  starving." 

I  had  children  of  my  own  living  then,  and  the 
thought  that  this  woman's  little  ones  were  suffer- 
ing for  food  gave  me  a  pang; 
but  knowing  the  wiles  of  New 
York,  I  determined  to  miss 
my  car  and  investigate. 

"  I  will  go    and   see  your  /  » 

children,"  said  I. 

"  Thank    you,    sir.     It    is 
only  a  little  way." 

Following  my  guide  for  a 
block  or  two,  she  led  me  to  a 
miserable  tenement  building, 
and  in  the  basement  I  found 
her  three  children.  There 
was  no  stove,  no  furniture, 
not  a  table  or  a  chair  in  the 
room,  and  no  light.  Striking 
a  match,  I  saw  the  children 
huddled  together  on  an  old 
niattrese,  shivering  and  blue 
with  cold.  Two  dollars  pro- 
duced some  coal  and  wood  to 
fill  the  empty  grate  and  put 
some  plain,  wholesome  food 
before  the  mother  and  her 
children.  I  afterwards  learn- 
ed that  the  woman  had  lost 
her  husband  a  few  mouths 
before,  and  having  been 
brought  up  in  ignorance  of 
how  to  earn  her  living,  she 
had  gone  from  bad  to  worse, 
until  she  reached  that  state 
that  she  had  gone  into  the 
streeta  to  sell  herself,  bodv 
and  sonl,  for  the  money  neetled  to  »ave  her  chil- 
dren. 1  brought  the  case  to  the  attention  of  a 
■society,  and  she  was  saved. 


as  well  make  up  his  mind  not  to  worry  about 
getting  out.     For  there's  no  telling  as  to  that. 

Suppose,  for  instance,  that  two  ruffians  with 
political  influence  get  into  a  tight,  and  one 
shoots  or  stabs  the  other.  The  shooter,  or  stab- 
ber  falls  into  the  hands  of  a  policeman.  An  "  in- 
nocent spectator  "  (that  ass  of  an  innocent  spec- 
tator is  always  around)  goes  along  to  tell  what  he 
saw.  The  ruffian  is  temporarily  locked  up,  and 
the  innocent  spectator  is  sent  to  "the  House  of  De- 
tention, to  appear  against  him  when  wanted. 
Next  day  the  political  friends  of  the  ruffian  get 
him  out  on  bail,  and  in  one  way  or  another  his 
trial  is  put  off  and  off,  and  in  some  cases  dropped 
altogether.  Bnt  the  innocent  spectator  remains 
in  jail.  No  bail  for  him.  The  law  does  not  al- 
low that.  It  is  the  criminal  to  whom  the  law  is 
lenient.  The  witness  of  his  crime  is  the  one  who 
suffers. 

The  plan  of  detaining  witnesses  in  this  way 
has  been  in  operation  some  twenty  veare.  It 
has  been  an  outrage  Irom  the  first  and  it  is  now 
admitted  to  be  a  failure.  A  bill  for  its  aboliti(>n 
18  before  the  Legislature.  One  incident  affords 
a  fair  illustration  ot  how  it  works:  A  countryman 
fell  into  the  hands  of  some  bunko  men  who  took 
him  to  a  room  and  locked  the  door.  He  was 
scared,  and  going  to  a  window  veiled  tor  help. 
The  bunko  men  then  opened  the  door  and  let  him 
out.  They  did  not  want  to  get  into  a  scrape.  At 
the  door  he  met  a  policeman  who  had  been  at- 
tracted by  his  cries,  and  to  whom  he  told  his  story. 

"  Do  you  want  them  arrested  ?  "  asked  the  po- 
liceman. And  then:  "  If  I  arrest  them  vou  will 
be  locked  up  as  a  witness  till  their  trial.'' 


up  or  not;  its  duty  merely  was  to  see  that  they 
were  kept  iu  safe  custody.  The  matter  was  finally 
settled  by  a  compromise,  whereby  the  imprisoned 
witnesses  have  at  least  some  chance  of  escape  in 
case  of  fire,  and  need  not  necessarily  figure  in  a 
holocaust. 


THE  MORGUE. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  DETENTION. 


The  New  Yorker  who  would  keep  out  of  jail 
must  be  careful  not  to  witness  a  crime.    If  he 
does  witness  one,  the  chances  are  that  he  will  be 
indefinitely  locked  up,  while  the  other  fellow,  ' 
who  commits  the  crime,  goes  out  on  bail  and  has  , 
a  good  time.     Some  of  these  glorious  republican  ' 
institutions  of  ours  have  a  few  queer  kinks  in  'em. 

Mulberry  Street  is  not  a  bit  like  Broadway,  ex- 
cept that  it  is  paved  with  stones,  which  are"  very 
dirty  all  the  year  round.  It  is  onlv  a  few  blocks 
from  Broadway,  however,  and  it  follows  the  same 
north  and  south  line.  Most  of  its  houses  are 
tenements,  with  an  extravagant  proportion  of 
bar-rooms  in  their  lower  parts.  A  good  many 
Italians  live  m  Mulberry  Street  (which  never  saw 
a  mulberry  in  its  life),  and  a  large  number  of 
Irish,  and  a  few  Germans,  and  some  of  the  col- 
ored element,  and  just  a  sprinkling  of  Chinese, 
and  in  one  part,  down  near  Chatham  Street,  an- 
other sprinkling  of  Jews.  So  you  see  its  popula- 
tion is  somewhat  mixed.  But  Mulberry  Street 
has  a  few  buildings  that  are  not  tenements.  One 
is  the  printing  house  of  the  Methodist  Book  Con- 
cern, another  is  the  general  puhce  headquarters, 
and  the  third,  locally  known  as  the  Cage,  bears 
the  name  of  the  House  of  Detention  for  Wit- 
nesses. It  is  bolted  and  barred  from  top  to  bot- 
tom, aod  the  unlucky  wight  who  once  gets  m  may 


HOUSE  OF  BEFCaE,  KAMDAI^L's  ISIAND. 


That  was  quite  enough.  The  countryman  did 
not  want  to  be  locked  up,  so  the  bunko  men  were 
not  arrested.  Instead  of  diminishing  crime  by 
making  sure  of  the  attendance  of  witnesses,  the 
law  has  had  a  contrary  effect  by  making  it  difli- 
cult  to  get  witnesses  at  all.  Much  has  been  said 
and  written  about  the  hardships  of  Ludlow 
Street  Jail.  Much  hardshin  is  suffered  in  the 
House  of  Detention  also,  ana  always  by  persons 
innocent  of  crime — merely  witnesses  against  the 
guilty.  A  woman  lx)ught  tU3  worth  of  furniture 
on  the  installment  plan.  Wlieu  she  had  paid  up 
$G5  she  got  into  the  U<m8e  of  Detention  as  a  wit- 
ness against  a  young  ruffian  arrested  for  highway 
robbery.  Shewas  kept  there  three  weeks.  This 
cut  off  her  meaus  to  keep  up  payments  on  the 
furniture.  While  she  was  locked  up  the  furni- 
ture man  went  to  her  home  and  removed  all  that 
he  had  sold  her,  leaving  her  minus  the  furniture 
and  her  $65  too.  This  is  only  one  case  of  a  hun- 
dred that  might  be  mentioned. 

A  short  time  ago  there  was  a  curious  conflict 
of  authority  about  the  House  of  Detention.  It  is 
a  high  building,  with  all  the  windows  barred.  Iu 
case  of  fire  it  would  be  a  rather  uucouifortablo 
place.  The  Fire  Department  ordered  fire- 
escapes  put  up  and  the  iron  bars  in  the  windows 
removed.  The  Police  Department  refused,  on 
the  ground  that  fire-escapes  would  enable  the 
detained  witnesses  to  get  away.  The  Fire  De- 
partment replied  that  those  persons  must  not  b(! 
exposed  to  the  danger  of  being  burned  up,  and 
repeated  the  order  for  fire-esoapes.  The  other  de- 
partment again  refused,  hinting  that  it  was  none 
of  its  business  whether  the  witnesses  were  burned 


A  NABBOW  room,  walled  in  by  white,  and  with 
plenty  of  opportunities  for  the  blessed  daylight 
to  stream  into  a  place  so  utterly  unblest. 
Any  one  can  find  it. 

The  margin  of  East  River,  on  Twenty-sixth 
Street. 

It  would  be  a  cool,  pleasant  white  room  at  any 
season  of  the  year,  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that 
two  or  three  corpses  almost  continually  grace  the 
marble  tables  which  are  placed  behmd  the  glass 
cases,  and  which  permeate  the  atmosphere  with 
a  dank,  mysterious  horror,  peculiar  to  the  place. 
Yet  this"  very  horror  is  an  attraction  to  hun- 
dreds of  our  Metropolitan  visitors,  who  seek  the 
morgue,  and  gaze  upon  its  ghastly  displays  with 
mingled  curiosity  and  disgust- 
In  some  cases,  this  curiosity  must  be  a  good 
deal  like  that  of  the  gay  French  woman  of  the 
Parisian  Demi-Monde. 

After  a  wild  night  of  revel,  she  bade  farewell 
to  her  companion,  saying  that  she  must  go  upon 
her  usual  "  morning  call." 
"  What  is  your  usual  morning  call  ?  " 
"  At  the  morgue— I  go  there  every  morning." 
"  Mo)t  dieu!   what  can  lead  you  there  after  a 
night  of  pleasure  ?  " 

"  Merely  to  see  whether  my 
own  corpse  is  not  there,"  wa"s 
the  reply.     "  I  know  1  shall 
'^  come  to  it  some  day,  and  am 

^g  sometimes    uncertain    as    to 

^^  whether  I  am  not  there  al- 

ready." 
'"^^1^  Our  women  are  not  quite  so 

irrepressible  as  the  French, 
but  perhaps  the  comparison 
is  made  a  little  too  intimate, 
bnt  in  some  cases,  at  least,  I 
know  I  cannot  have  erred. 

In  my  many  visits  to  the 
morgue,  as  a  'newspaper  re- 
porter, I  have  witnessed 
many  strange  and  most  un- 
usual scenes,  the  narration  of 
which  would  sound  almost 
like  the  tongue  ol  fiction. 

One  of  ray  early  visits  was 
made  just  as  the  shadows  of 
twilight  were  enfolding  the 
city,  though  it  was  quite  light 
enough  to  see  everything  dis- 
tinctly. 

I  had  crossed  in  a  rowboat 
from  the  Long  Island  shore, 
and,  weak  ana  heartsick  from 
an    unsuccessful   mission  in 
the    search    of    "  exclusive 
news,"   felt  inchned  to  pro- 
ceed officeward,  and  report 
my  failure,  as  fast  as  possible;  but,  passing  along 
Twenty-sixth  Street,   the   instinct  to  enter   the 
morgue  was  too  strong  to  be  resisted,  and  I 
went  in. 
Death  had  not  been  so  rife  as  usual. 
A  single  corpse  was  laid  out,  occupying  the 
table  nearest  the  door. 

It  was  that  of  a  young  and  once  vigorous  man. 
The  face— dark-haired,  dark-bearded— was  noble 
and  gentle,  and  the  trickling  water  fell  drip,  drip, 
upon  the  marble  forehead,  and  flowed  over  the 
motionless  form,  m  a  strangely  dreary,  icy  man- 
ner. 

There  was  but  one  vestige  of  the  death  which 
had  come  upon  him  unawares — a  bright  scar 
across  the  temple  on  the  left  side— and  even  that 
had  not  disfigured  the  beauty  of  the  corpse. 

As  I  stood  gazing  at  it  in  tlie  light,  which  every 
moment  grew  more  uncertain,  as  the  shadows  of 
twilight  gathered  down,  a  hundred  strange  im- 
ages flickered  through  my  mind,  and  seemed  re- 
flected on  the  blank  white  of  the  wall  beyond. 

I  saw  the  dimly-lighted  lonely  street,  with  its 
single  wayfarer,  and  the  stealthy-footed  garroter 
springing" in  his  track,  his  assistants  lurking  at 
convenient  corners.  Then  the  light  tap  on  the 
forehead,  the  head  thrown  back,  the  deadly  hug 
from  behind,  with  the  sharp  wrist-bone  pressed 
against  the  Adam's  apple;  and  then  three  vil- 
lains stealing  noiselessly  away,  and  leaving  a 
senseless  rifled  form  on  the  sidewalk. 

I  had  a  fleeting  vision  of  the  dark,  irregular 
pier  at  the  river's  brink,  and  the  mad  suicide 
rushing  forward  for  the  final  plunge  into  etep« 
nity. 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


21 


Tho  concert-saloon  brawl  rose  before  me;  the 

aailor  from  abroad,  full  of  money  and  whiakey; 

and  the  sharp  club-blow  from  behind  the  bar- 

^  counter,  which  stunned  him  and  left  him  to  be 

robbed. 

The  rowdy-fight  in  tho  street,  and  the  stampede 
as  the  police  approached,  with  the  BinRlo,  uian- 
glcd,  bleeding  body  left  to  grace  tho  cold  stones. 

Th-^fejand  a  hundred  visions  more  of  a  similar 
charaeter,  passed  through  my  brain,  and  flick- 
ered on  the  blank-white  wall  of  the  Morgue,  as  I 
stood  gazing  in  upon  tho  single  young  corpse 
that  lay  there,  when  a  sudden  groan  at  my  left 
startled  me  wonderfully. 

I  had  thought  I  was  alone  -alone  with  the 
dead. 

Recovering  from  my  foolish  fright,  I  saw  that 
a  stranger  had  entered  the  apartment  unknown 
to  me. 

He  was  a  tall,  gaunt  man,  clothed  in  a  heavy 
black  cloak,  which  almost  enveloped  his  entire 
form.  A  large  slouched  hat  concealed  his  fea- 
tures. But  I  noticed  that  his  frame  trembled 
violently,  and  ho  gazed  into  tho  glass  case  sur- 
rounding the  corpse  with  an  apparent  eagerness 
which  was  quite  remarkable. 

He  was  apparently  entirely  unaware  of  tlie 
presence  of  any  one  else  but  liimself,  and  began 
speaking  to  lumself  in  a  wild  and  half  inco- 
herent manner,  which  I  Tj-ot  could  understand. 

'■  Great  Heavenl  here  it  is!  It  looks  just  as  it 
did,  though  naked  and  cold!  Oh,  Heaven!  why 
cannot  I  fly  from  it  ?  I  must  still  come  and  look, 
look,  look!  I  think  I  must  be  growing  mad! 
There  is  the  gash  —  the  very 
gash  I— oh.  Heaven  have  mercy 
upon  me!" 

He  said  all  this  in  a  very  low 
tone,  but  with  an  intensity  that 
Tuade  up  for  loudness. 

Not  thinking,  at  the  moment, 
that  he  might  be  intimately 
■connected  with  the  deed  of 
blood,  I  laid  my  hand  upon  his 
shoulder,  and"  was  about  to 
speak  consoling  words,  when  ho 
started  from  me  as  if  my  touch 
had  been  an  adder's  sting. 

"AVho  are  you?  What  do 
you  mean  ?  I  didn't  do  it.  I 
swear  to  Heaven  I  had  no  hand 
in  it!  Can't  a  man  come  into 
the  Morgue  to  take  a  look  ?  Go 
away  from  me!  /  had  nothing 
to  do  with  it." 

Then,  as  his  mind  grew 
calmer,  he  controlled  his  feel- 
ings, and  said,  with  a  very  gen- 
tlemanly and  pleasant  tone: 

"Forgive  me.  I  meant  no 
rudeness.  1  am  nervous,  and 
my  mind  was  engrossed  by 
many  things." 

I  bowed  my  indifference,  but 
must  say  that  I  viewed  my  com- 
panion "with  a  feeling  of  repul- 
.-iion  which  I  had  never  be- 
fore felt  for  a  human  being. 

He    extended    his   hand.    I 
drew  back,  hesitating.     "\Miat!"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Do  yon  think  ?    Do  you  really  thmk  ?  " 

He  said  no  more,  but,  rushing  from  the  room, 
aped  down  the  darkening  street  like  a  specter  of 
guilt. 

I  really  do  not  know  what  I  did  think;  but  I 
would  not  have  had  that  man's  nervous  tempera- 
ment at  that  time  for  my  weight  in  bullion. — 
H'atkan  D.  Timer,  in  the  Kern  lork  Weekly. 


tender,  the  doors  loading  to  the  street  are  wide 
open,  and  one  minute  has  not  yet  expired  since 
the  first  stroke  of  tho  bell!  'Iho  engineer  taps 
me  on  the  shoulder,  and  orders  me  into  a  place 
on  the  narrow  platiorm  behind  the  engine. 

"  Hold  on  for  your  life!" 

The  advice  is  scarcely  in  my  ear  when  the 
horses  plun^jo  forward,  and  the  machine  rolls  off 
the  smooth  floor  of  tho  station  on  to  tho  cobble- 
stones of  the  street,  which  seem  to  (ly  out  of  their 
beds  in  tho  rebound  ot  tho  wheels.  The  excite- 
ment bewilders;  the  stores  and  houses  along  tho 
route  are  indistinct;  for  a  mom('nt  our  feet  arc 
shaken  from  under  us  as  wo  sharply  turn  a  cor- 
ner; tlion  a  greater  ease  in  motion  tellH  us  that  wo 
have  left  tho  cobble-stones  or  IJelgian  paveiuent 
for  asphalt  or  macadam;  the  tremendous  finger 
of  the  steam-gauge  indicates  a  high  and  higher 
pressure;  the  furnace  blazes  with  increasing  ve- 
liemciico,  and  the  Hiuake-stack  emits  dense 
wreaths  of  mingled  smoke  and  sparks,  which  arc 
blown  back  upon  us,  and  inclose  us  m  their  suf- 
focating blackness.  The  experience  is  thrilling 
beyond  measure  to  a  novice,  and  tho  absorbed 
expression  of  tlie  men  who  have  been  used  to  tlic 
thmg  for  years  shows  that  it  also  has  some  effect 
upon  them.  The  engine  stops  abruptly  in  front 
01  a  building  out  of  winch  some  smoke  is  drift- 
ing; tho  hose  is  uncoiled  from  the  tender,  a 
hydrant  is  tapped,  and  in  less  than  five  minutes 
after  tho  first  stroke  of  the  alarm  at  tho  station 
a  stream  of  water  is  thrown  upon  the  fire  by  the 
engine,  whicli  gasps  for  breath,  apparently,  at 
the  haste.    Within  those  five  minutes  twelve  or 


A  FIRE  ALARM  IN  NEW  YORK. 

A  hoxm-somrDisa  bell  breaks  the  silence  with 
several  imperative-strokes  following  each  other 
in  quick  and  startling  succession— tho  cause  an 
electric  current,  the  effect  like  the  crack  of  doom 
in  a  limited  area.  The  firemen  spring  out  of 
their  beds  simultaneously,  without  losing  a  tenth 
of  a  second  in  hesitation  or  surprise;  ten  pairs 
of  legs  are  simultaneously  thrust  into  trousers 
by  the  bedside,  and  two'hitches  pull  on  both 
trousers  and  boots.  The  trousers  close  upon  the 
hips,  so  that  no  time  is  lost  with  suspenders  or 
belts,  and  the  miraculous  toilet  is  complete, 
while  I  stand  confused  by  the  distressing  sud- 
denness of  things.  The  noise  in  the  lower  room 
IS  as  though  the  foundations  of  the  building  were 
being  blasted  by  dynamite.  The  bell  is  still 
.-itriking,  repeating  th"e  signal  five  times  over,  and 
the  last  fireman  is  half  wav  down-stairs  before  I 
recover  myself  and  hastilv  follow  him.  Below 
stairs  the  horses  are  hitch'ed  to  the  engine,  the 
driver  is  on  the  jbox,  the  furnace  is  lighted,  the 
men  have  taken  their  precarious  positions  on  the 


BLOOMINOD.\LE   ASYLUM. 

thirteen  men  have  been  aroused  from  a  sound 
sleep  and  have  dressed  themselves,  three  horses 
have  been  taken  out  ot  a  stable  and  attached  to 
vehicles,  and  the  vehicles  and  men  have  trav- 
eled five  blocks. 

But  if  one  should  speak  to  the  men  about  it, 
they  would  deprecate  admiration.  During  the 
first  visit  of  the  Grand  Duke  Alexis  to  New  York, 
an  aiarm  of  fire  was  sounded  at  the  Clarendon 
Hotel,  in  Fourth  Avenue,  and  a  stream  of  water 
turned  upon  the  building  by  an  engine  within 
two  minutes  and  thirty-five  seconds,  the  engine 
having  been  manned  and  brought  four  blocks  in 
the  mean  time.  It  is  not  unusual  for  the  engine 
to  be  out  of  the  house  and  on  its  way  to  a  fire 
within  forty  seconds  of  the  moment  when  the  bell 
first  strikes. 

We  will  not  remain  with  the  men  at  the  fire, 
which  may  do  little  damage,  and  occupy  them 
for  an  hour,  or  reduce  millions  of  dollars  worth 
of  property,  and  occupy  them  for  a  whole  night. 

As  soon  as  they  return  to  the  station,  no  matter 
how  tired  they  niay  be,  the  engine  is  restored  to 
its  original  co"nditi"on  of  brilliancy,  the  horses  are 
groomed,  the  harncBs  is  washed  with  Castile 
soap,  the  hose  is  ro-adjusted  on  the  tender,  and 
an  hour  afterward,  or  less,  the  company  is  fully 
prepared  to  answer  another  alarm.  Each  man 
places  his  hat  and  coat  in  his  seat  on  the  tender, 
and  puts  them  on  after  he  has  started  for  the 
fire;  he  also  has  a  particular  place  and  a  particu- 
lar duty  assigned  to  him  in  hitching  up  the  horses, 
which  is  done  br  electric  snaps,  and  in  getting 
the  engine  out  of  the  house,  the  entire  perform- 
ance often  consuming  no  more  than  ten  seconds. 


THE  "DEAD  BEATS"  OF  THE  METROPOLIS. 

Gotham's  lazy  Brotherhood  of  Dead  Beats  is 
recruited  from  all  quarters.  Pretty  much  every 
town  big  enough  to  raise  a  rascal  contributes  itK 
quota.  East,  West,  North,  or  bouth,  it  is  all  the 
same.  Just  as  the  sharpers^  swindlers  and 
miscellaneous  rogues  of  every  section  drift  to- 
ward tho  busy  metropolis,  so  do  the  dead  beats. 
Let  a  stranger  from  any  part  of  tho  country  put 
up  at  a  New  York  hotel,  and  the  chances  arc 
that  before  his  first  cigar  is  finished  some  fellow 
from  his  own  place,  who  can  claim  some  ac- 
quaintance, will  find  him  out  and  try  to  make  a 
strike.  "  The  hotel  game  "  is  a  favorite  one.  It 
IB  worked  every  day,  and  often  with  a  good  deal 
of  success.  That  was  how  Franklin  Sloses,  ex- 
Governor  of  South  Carolina,  made  out  for  a 
couple  of  years  before  the  crooked  affair  that 
landed  him  in  the  penitentiary.  Moses  was 
known  in  one  way  or  another  to  a  good  many 
Southerners  visiting  New  York.  Most  of  them 
had  a  mighty  small  opinion  of  him,  but  ho  had 
a  smooth  tongue  and  a  fair  share  of  the  ingenu- 
ity of  the  natural  born  rascal,  and  when  ho  ap- 
proached them  in  shabby  clothes  and  told  a  piti- 
ful story  of  hard  luck,  there  were  not  many  who 
would  hot  say  to  themselves:  "Well,  I'll  give 
tho  poor  devil  a  dollar,  anyway."  Moses  hung 
around  the  hotels  nearly  all  the  time.  The  de- 
tectives and  porters  knew  him  and  kept  an  eye 
on  him,  but  he  did  not  mind  that  so  long  as  he 
had  a  chance  to  pick  up  an  odd  dollar  or  two. 
He  lodged  wherever  he  could,  according  to  the 
state  of  his  {jocket,  and  got  his 
meals,  such  as  they  were,  in 
the  same  way.  A  year  before 
the  police  took  him  in  charge 
he  rang  an  old  Columbia  ac- 
quaintance out  of  bed  after  mid- 
night to  borrow  twenty-five 
cents  to  pay  for  a  bed.  That 
was  rather  a  come  down  for  a 
Governor,  but  not  quite  so  bad, 
perhaps,  as  being  yanked  off  to 
the  penitentiary  for  the  mean- 
est kind  of  fraud.  An  old  man 
was  swindled  by  a  professional 
sharper.  Moses  went  to  him, 
said  he  was  a  lawyer  and  could 
get  back  the  money,  and  so 
wormed  himself  into  the  old 
man's  confidence  that  ho  got 
more  money  out  of  him.  Then 
a  police  court  and  the  peniten- 
tiary, and  ex-Governor  Moses 
passed  out  of  sight. 

THE   HOTEL   BEAT. 

A  dift'erent  type  of  the  8pe« 
cies  is  the  dead  beat  wlio  gets 
a  living  out  of  the  hotel  men 
themselves.  Probably  a  more 
proper  classification  in  this  case 
would  put  him  in  the  category 
of  swindlers,  but  then,  nearly 
all  dead  beats  are  swindlers  of 
some  sort.  The  hotel  beat  is 
pretty  well  known  everywhere. 
His  clothing  is  always  a  trifle  shabby,  but  he 
generally  contrives  to  spruce  up  in  such  a  way 
that  the  shabbiness  is  not  much  noticed.  His 
manner  is  sometimes  easy  and  sometimes  lofty, 
and  his  main  object  at  all  times  is  to  disarm  sus- 
picion. He  makes  his  rounds  with  a  minimum 
of  baggage,  a  maximum  of  brass  and  a  fair 
average  of  cunning,  the  brass  and  the  cunning 
always  working  in  harmony.  Some  years  ago 
the  iiotel  men  formed  an  association  for  mu- 
tual protection  against  miscellaneous  frauds, 
including  the  habitual  beat,  and  since  that  time 
he  has  not  been  able  to  make  out  quite  so  well. 
All  old  stager  is  pretty  sure  to  be  known,  and 
treated  with  such  gross  and  summary  disrespect 
as  would  disgust  and  humiliate  a  Kentucky 
mule.  Ho  may  even  find  himself  expelled  so 
suddenly  that  lie  does  not  know  how  the  thing 
happene'd  till  it  is  all  over.  The  new  hand, 
though,  still  has  a  fair  chance.  Even  the  de- 
tectives, who  are  always  on  duty  around  the 
hotel  offices,  may  not  discover  anything  suspi- 
cious in  him  till  "he  is  ready  to  slip  out  and  play 
his  game  somewhere  else.  In  some  cases  he 
pays  up  for  one  week  in  order  to  clear  the  way 
for  a  second,  but  his  general  rule  is  to  pay  noth- 
ing and  get  all  he  can.  The  proverbial  black 
sheep  of  every  family  is  pretty  sure  to  be  a  hotel 
beat  at  one  time  or  another.  One  young  man  of 
this  kind  has  swindled  nearly  evei-y  liotel  in 
New  York  in  the  course  of  his  swift  career,  and 
is  now  cavorting,  so  to  speak,  somewhere  out 
West.  His  family  cut  him  off  long  ago  as  a  hope- 
less case,  but  he  still  uses  the  family  name  as 
capital  m  hia  dead-beat  enterprises,  and  as  it  ia 


THE  QREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


pretty  well  known  he  gete  a  living  out  of  it,  at  all 
events.  As  the  son  of  Vanbueren  Blank,  pro- 
duce dealer,  he  ia  supposed  to  be  good  for  his 
board  bill,  any  way,  and,  possibly,  the  $10  or  $20 
he  borrows  for  an  hour  of  so,  and  his  true  char- 
acter is  not  suspected  till  after  he  has  used  part 
of  the  money  to  put  a  lew  hundred  miles  between 
himself  and  his  victim. 

BEATS   AT   THE   CLTTBS. 

The  genus  beat  is  probably  as  well  known  in 
the  club-rooms  as  anywhere  else.  Every  club  in 
New  York  can  make  a  fair  exhibit  of  specimens. 
The  club-room  beat  must  necessarily  be  of  a 
higher  type  than  most  of  the  others.  He  needs 
social  standing  in  order  to  get  into  the  club,  and 
he  needs  to  dress  well  and  be  able  to  play  the 
gentleman  to  maintain  any  status  afterward. 
Two  types  of  the  beat  are  familiar  to  club  men. 
One  18  the  genial,  pleasant  fellow  who  is  always 
in  need  of  a  loan,  which  he  always  forgets  to  re- 
turn unless  it  is  dunned  out  of  him,  and  the 
other  is  the  affable,  plausible,  wide-awake  man 
about  town,  who  is  up  to  all  the  points  at  cards 
and  can  handle  a  billiard  cue  like  an  expert. 
The  chronic  borrower  comes  to  be  looked  upon 
after  awhile  as  a  nuisance,  unless,  as  is  some- 
times the  case,  his  geniality  is  sufi6cient  to  over- 
come annoyance  at  his  importunities.  Most  men 
tind  it  hard  to  get  out  of  humor  with  a  thoroughly 
pleasant  fellow  and  cut  him  altogether,  even 
though  he  has  a  weakness  for  borrowing.    As 

for  the  card  and  billiard  

man,  whose  whole  exist- 
ence, almost,  is  passed  at 
the  club,  while  he  proba- 
bly would  take  great  of- 
fense at  being  called  a 
beat,  the  name  seems  to 
fit  him  much  better  than 
anr  other.  As  a  rule  he 
follows  no  business  out- 
side of  the  club-rooms.  In- 
side he  is  not  often  idle. 
He  may  be  lound  in  the 
card-room  or  billiard-room 
at  all  times,  and  he  is  al- 
ways ready  to  plav.  As  a 
matter  of  course,  liis  play 
must  bo  fair,  else  his  com- 
pany in  any  respectable 
club  would  soon  be  dis- 
pensed with,  but  he  has 
made  the  play  a  close 
study,  and  is  more  expert 
at  it  than  most  of  his  fel- 
low-players. Some  men  of 
this  class  make  a  comfort- 
able living  at  the  clubs  at 
the  expense  of  their  asso- 
ciates. I  hear  of  one  who 
clears  an  average  of  $3,000 
a  year  at  wlust  alone. 
Others  aro  satisfied  with 
less,  but  all  make  enough 
for  current  expenses  on  a 
moderate  scale.  An  odd 
thing  is  that  members  who 
have  been  worsted  by  them 
over  and  over,  and  made 
to  contribute  freely  to  their 
exchequer,  keep  on  meet- 
ing them,  and  being  worsted,  and  making  con- 
tributions, just  as  though  the  whole  thing  were  a 
noveltv.  In  this  case,  at  any  rate,  the  adage 
about  Dumed  children  and  the  tire  isn't  worth  a 
cent. 

DEAD   BEAT   LAWYERS. 

The  legal  fraternity  also  has  its  share.  1  know 
one  lawyer,  a  rascal  as  well  as  a  beat,  who  prob- 
ably has  not  earned  an  honest  dollar  in  ten 
years,  but  who  has  managed  to  live  in  pretty 
good  style,  nevertheless.  Nothing  would  please 
this  man  better  than  a  cluincc  for  a  libel  suit,  so 
I  shall  take  care  not  to  designate  him  too  plainly. 
He  turned  up  in  New  York  some  fifteen  years 
ago,  got  in  with  the  Tweed  politicians  and  pock- 
eted some  of  their  plunder,  and  has  since  beaten 
landlords,  boarding-house  keepers  and  a  good 
many  others  out  of  their  met  dues  by  bullying 
and  making  threats  of  the  law.  One  day  an  old 
acquamtance  met  him  in  the  street  and  asked 
him  casually  about  a  certain  matter,  and  next 
morning  received  a  bill  for  $25,  consultation  fee. 
He  paid  the  bill,  but  dropped  the  acquaintance. 
Another  lawyer  who  appeared  here  about  the 
same  time,  from  a  Soutiiern  city,  made  a  round 
of  all  to  whom  he  could  obtain  an  introduction 
(the  circle  was  large,  as  his  wife's  family  was 
well  known  and  highly  esteemed)  and  borrowed 
in  every  case  where  a  dollar  could  be  raised.  He 
hcd  military  rank,  a  fine  appearance  and  an  im- 
posing manner,  and  he  rarely  failed  to  get  money. 


When  he  had  exhausted  the  possibilities  of  bor- 
rowing he  returned  South,  and  is  still  there, 
whde  his  wife,  who  has  had  to  give  him  up  alto- 
gether, supports  herself  in  New  York  by  teach- 
ing. One  of  the  shabbiest  figures  to  be  seen  on 
Broadway  is  that  of  a  lawyer,  who  was  in  good 
circumstances  not  many  years  ago.  How  he  fell 
to  his  present  condition  I  do  not  know,  but  he 
now  ekes  out  a  miserable  living  by  going  around 
to  law  offices,  where  ho  was  known  in  better 
times,  and  accepting  any  sum  that  may  be  of- 
fered. He  does  not  ask  for  money,  but  his  ob- 
ject for  calling  is  always  known,  and  he  rarely 
goes  away  empty  handed.  He  does  not  even  say 
"good  morning,"  or  "thank  you,"  but  takes 
what  is  given  him,  and  goes  away  without  a 
word.  This  man  seems  to  have  fallen  into  a 
morbid  state  that  will  probably  end  in  insanity. 

THEATRICAL  BEATS. 

The  theatrical  beat  (I  don't  mean  the  chronic 
dead-head,  who,  however,  is  as  much  a  beat  as 
any  beggar  on  the  streets),  is  familiar  wherever 
the  profession  has  a  rendezvous  of  any  kind.  He 
is  not  a  bad  sort  of  fellow,  but  he  is  always  hard 
up,  and  forever  disregarding  the  advice  of  Po- 
louins  as  to  borrowing.  A  calling  so  uncertain 
as  that  of  the  "  snap  "  actor  is  pretty  sure  to  pro- 
duce a  fair  proportion  of  beats,  as  nearly  all  call- 
ings do,  for  that  matter.  This  particular  beat 
haunts  the  places  where  actors  meet.  He  hangs 
around  the  dramatic  agencies,  the  front  doors 


mon  BBrooE,  kew  tore 


and  stage  doors  of  the  theatres,  the  entrances  to 
hotels  where  actors  stop,  and  the  bar-rooms 
where  they  Bometimes  drop  in  for  a  drink.  His 
clothes  arc  generally  seedy,  bat  he  wears  them 
with  a  jauuty  air,  and  occasionally  he  poses  and 
stmts  in  a  way  that  recalls  the  ludicrous  Fitzal- 
tamont  of  poor  Sothern.  Union  Square  is  his 
favorite  stamping-ground  in  New  York,  for  it  is 
there  the  Thespians  resort,  and  his  chance  of 
picking  up  something  is  best.  The  poor  fellow  is 
oflen  actually  hungry,  and  the  price  of  a  meal  in 
a  cheap  restaurant  is  a  godsend.  Only  a  few 
actors  even  of  this  kind  aro  really  dissipated, 
but  all  are  ready  for  a  glass  of  beer,  and  nearly 
all  have  the  common  failing  of  forgetting  to  pay 
up  when  they  happen  to  be  momentarily  flush. 
When  one  does  abandon  himself  wholly  to  drink 
and  dead-beatism,  he  still  finds  a  sympathetic 
spot  among  his  more  reputable  brethren,  and  is 
rarely  turned  off  with  a  curse  or  a  kick,  as  some 
others  who  get  down  in  the  world  are  likely  to 
be.  The  boys  may  swear  at  tim  a  little  for  not 
taking  better  care  of  himself,  but  they  generally 
give  him  a  trifle.  The  theatrical  beat  hardly 
ever  sponges  outside.  His  operations  are  con- 
fined to  the  circle  of  his  own  calling,  and  he  trou- 
bles the  general  public  very  little  indeed.  This 
much,  at  least,  should  be  put  down  to  his  credit. 

THE  PHIL.^JJTHROPIC   BEAT. 

In  the  whole  brotherhood  of  beats  there  is  none 
more  contemptible  than  the  fellow  who  uses  a 


pretense  of  philanthropy  to  make  an  easy  living 
for  himself.  New  York  offers  a  fine  field  for  this 
kind  of  fraud.  The  numerous  charitable  socie- 
ties afford  both  opportunity  and  facility.  Both 
men  and  women  attach  themselves  to  them  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  providing  for  number  one. 
I  do  not  speak  now  of  the  swindlers  of  both  sexes 
who  start  "  asylums,"  "homes,"  "shelters," 
"  folds,"  and  so  on  of  their  own,  and  make  per- 
sonal use  of  two-thirds  of  the  cash  they  manage 
to  collect,  but  merely  of  those  who  connect  them- 
selves with  recognized  societies  and  institutions, 
and  live  on  them  in  the  name  of  philanthropy. 
A  favorite  dodge  is  to  get  credentials  and  a  col- 
lection book,  and  then  appropriate  fifty  per  cent, 
of  the  receipts.  Men  who  resort  to  this  way  of 
making  a  living  usually  work  up  a  benevolent 
aspect,  an  impressive  manner  and  a  tone  that 
combines  piety  and  persuasion.  Now  and  then 
a  vulgar  fellow  of  the  Stiggins  type  tries  his  hand, 
but  his  success  does  not  encourage  him  to  stick 
to  the  business.  He  can  make  out  better  at  some 
other  kind  of  fraud.  Again,  there  are  persons, 
of  both  sexes,  with  a  special  aptitude  for  collect- 
ing for  charity,  who  make  a  good  living  in  a  way 
that  the  societies  consider  quite  legitimate.  They 
receive  a  large  percentage  on  the  money  they 
collect  in  lieu  of  a  salary.  In  some  cases  the  al- 
lowance is  as  much  as  thirty  per  cent.,  and 
amoimts  to  more  in  the  aggregate  than  the  col- 
lectors could  make  at  any  kind  of  work.  Of 
coarse,  the  persons  who  give  money  for  charity 
do  not  know  that  one-thir<l 
of  it  goes  into  the  pockets 
of  the  collectors.  Then 
there  are  the  people  who 
manage  some  societies  and 
institutions  on  a  p|u  rely 
commercial  basis,  '  so  far 
as  their  own  interests  are 
concerned,  holding  on  to 
good  places  at  good  sala- 
ries year  after  year,  and 
making  every  point  count 
in  their  own  favor.  I  do 
not  hesitate  to  say  that  a 
large  number  of  the  agents 
and  servants  ot  charity  and 
general  philanthropy  i  u 
New  Y'ork  are  dead-beats, 
pure  and  simple — no,  not 
simple,  for  they  keep  Num- 
ber One  first  all  the  time. 

BE.^TS   OF   THE   STREET. 

The  variety  of  dead-beats 
■who  pick  up  a  living  on  tlio 
Btreets,  as  common  beggars 
or  plausible  inipostors,  ir> 
also  unlimited.  The  figurcH 
of  some  have  been  familiar 
for  years.  One  in  particular 
has  often  interested  me.  It 
ia  fully  ten  years  since  I 
first  met  the  old  man,  who 
sometimes  introduces  him- 
self as  the  father  of  Jim 
Fisk,  and  again  talks  about 
the  sick  wile  who  is  dying  for 
want  of  food.  At  first  he 
haunted  the  neighborhood 
of  Union  Square,  out  latter- 
ly he  has  established  himself  in  an  up-town  sec- 
tion, of  which  the  Windsor  Hotel  is  the  center. 
No  one  meeting  this  venerable  humbug  for  the 
first  time  could  fail  to  be  impressed.  His  ap- 
pearance combines  the  imposing  and  the  pic- 
turesque. He  is  over  six  feet  high,  with  broad 
shoulaere  which  lean  forward  just  a  little,  and  a 
physique  as  sturdy  as  a  plowman's.  His  face  is 
smooth,  and  suggests  the  daily  use  of  a  razor. 
The  features  arc  strong  and  regular,  and  might 
be  those  of  a  minister  or  a  doctor.  His  hair,  al- 
most white,  falls  to  his  shoulders,  and  with  the 
strong,  smooth  face,  gives  him  an  aspect  of  re- 
spectability. He  is  always  comfortably  clad, 
and  he  always  carries  a  stout  stick  in  his  left 
hand,  holding  out  the  right  for  any  odd  change 
that  his  appeals  for  help  may  draw  from  the  un- 
wary. This  old  man,  who  is  simply  a  chronic 
beggar,  a  liar  and  a  first-class  beat,  looks  as  if, 
with  a  little  fixing  up  in  dress,  he  would  adoni 
the  United  States  Senate.  His  story  about  being 
the  father  of  Jim  Fisk  takes  in  a  few  of  the  es- 
pecially gullible,  and  the  story  about  the  sick 
wife  has  its  effect  too.  At  all  events  he  picks  up 
a  pretty  good  living,  and  it  is  said  that  he  has 
some  money  laid  by. 


The  New  York  Bowery  received  its  name  from 
the  many  trees  on  it.  The  last  one  remaining,  a 
button-ball  at  least  seventy  years  old,  was  cut 
down  to  make  room  for  the  "elevated  railroad. 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


23 


DETECTIVE  FOBCE  OF  NEW  YORK. 

The  followiug  article  upon  tho  Metropolitan 
Detective  Force  is  takeu  Iroin  Matthew  Halo 
Smith's  "  Sunshine  and  Shadow  m  Now  York," 
pubhshod  by  the  J.  B.  Burr  Publishing  Com- 
pany, of  Hartford,  Conn.: 

Tho  Hyslom  of  dotoctivos  is  not  old.  In  former 
times  tlie  idea  ol  a  sharp  criminal  officer  was  ex- 
pressed iu  the  adage  "  Set  a  rogue  to  catch  a 
rogue."  The  modern  theory  is,  tliat  integrity, 
tact,  industry,  are  the  best  qualitioatious  of  a 
good  detective.  For  many  years  there  existed  a 
set  of  men  in  Loudon  known  as  Bow  Street  offi- 
cers. They  were  remarkably  shrewd,  wore  more 
than  a  match  for  tho  sharpest  villains,  and  could 
ferret  out  crimes  and  outwit  the  shrewdest 
rogues.  When  the  London  Metropolitan  Police 
system  was  adopted,  an  order  of  men  were  in- 
troduced, called  detectives.  This  force  was  com- 
posed of  men  who  seemed  to  have  a  gift  for  de- 
tecting crime.  They  could  scent  out  a  murder, 
and  track  tho  perpetrator  over  oceans  and 
across  continents.  They  could  unravel  tho  mys- 
teries of  a  robbery,  and  bring  to  light  things  of 
darkness.  Under  Mr.  Matsell,  iu  this  city,  a 
small  force  was  gathered,  and  were  known  as 
shadows,  because  they  silently  and  persistently 
followed  their  victim.  In  1857,  the  detectives,  as 
a  distinct  corps,  were  created.  The  force  is 
small — about  twenty-five  men.  It  is  very  effi- 
cient. Captain  Young,  tho  chief,  who  has  had 
many  years'  experience,  is  cool,  keen,  brave, 
clear-headed.  He  is  so  adroit  in  catching  rogues 
and  restoring  stolen  goods,  that  many  persons, 
after  their  property  has  been  returned  to  them, 
go  to  the  commissioners  and  demand  that  Cap- 
tain Young  shall  bo  tried  for  complicity.  They 
do  not  believe  that  a  man  could  bring  back  stolen 
property  unless  he  has  some  share  m  the  origi- 
nal theft. 

QCALIFICATIONS   OF  A   DETECTIVE. 

Good  detectives  are  rare.  An  unblemished 
character  is  indispensable,  for  the  temptations 
are  many.  A  detective  must  be  quick,  talented, 
and  possess  a  good  memory;  cool,  unmoved,  able 
to  suppress  all  emotion;  have  great  endurance, 
untiring  industry,  and  keen  relish  for  his  work; 
put  on  all  characters,  and  assume  all  disguises; 
pursue  a  ti-ail  for  weeks,  or  months,  or  years;  go 
anywhere  at  a  moment's  notice,  on  the  land  or  sea, 
go  without  tood  or  sleep;  follow  the  slightest  clew 
till  he  reaches  the  criminal;  from  tho  simplest 
fragment  bring  crime  to  hght;  surround  himself 
with  secrecy  and  mystery;  have  great  force  ot 
will;  a  character  without  reproach,  that  property 
and  persons  may  be  safe  in  his  hands;  with  a 
high  order  of  intellectual  power.  The  modern 
detective  system  is  based  on  the  theory  that  pu- 
rity and  intelligence  has  a  controlling  power 
over  crime.  Detectives  must  be  pure  men,  and, 
like  Caesar's  wife,  be  above  suspicion  when  they 
come  out  from  the  ordeal  through  which  they 
have  to  pass.  To  obtain  the  right  kind  of  men, 
the  force  has  often  to  be  sifted  and  purged. 


So  the  old  High  Constable  of  New  York  was 
known.  He  was  the  first  real  detective  of  the 
city.  He  was  a  short,  thick-set,  stout-built  man, 
looking  as  it  nature  intended  him  for  a  giant, 
and  altered  her  mind.  He  had  a  round,  stolid 
face,  of  the  hue  of  mahogany — a  genuine  Jewish 
physiognomy.  He  was  an  "honest  man,  of  high 
moral  and  religious  character,  and  a  consistent 
member  of  the  Scotch  Presbyterian  Church,  then 
worshipping  in  Grand  Street.  He  lived  in  the 
time  wnen  the  guardians  of  the  city  were  watch- 
men. With  their  old  camlet  cloaks  and  huge 
lanterns,  they  prowled  about  the  city  at  night, 
and  were  known  as  leatherheads,  from  the 
leather  cap  they  wore.  Hays  had  a  small  office 
in  the  Tombs.  He  was  a  regular  autocrat,  and 
held  the  monopoly  of  catching  thieves.  He  was 
about  the  only  poUce  officer  in  the  State  who 
did  any  business.  He  was  really  a  great  man. 
So  successful  was  he  as  a  detective,  that  his 
fame  spread  over  the  whole  civilized  world.  He 
was  as  well  known  in  London  as  New  York.  He 
was  a  terror  to  evil-doers.  "  Old  Hays  is  after 
you! "  would  send  juvenile  scamps  off  at  any 
time.  He  could  track  a  rogue  by  instinct.  Men 
beUeved  he  was  in  league  with  criminals  all  over 
tho  world,  and  that  his  religious  profession  was 
a  sham  and  a  blind.  If  a  robbery  was  committed 
in  Boston,  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  Liverpool, 
or  London,  the  matter  was  put  in  the  hands  of 
Old  Hays.  Fifteen  years  after  his  death,  letters 
came  from  the  chief  of  police,  London,  pertain- 
ing to  criminals  and  crime,  addressed  to  "Jacob 
Hays,  High  Constable  of  New  York." 


HOW  THE   DETECTIVES   DO  THEIR  WORK. 

Crime  is  not  only  systematized,  but  elaseified. 
Each  adroit  rogue  has  a  way  of  doing  things 
which  is  as  personal  as  a  man's  liaudwritiug.  We 
have  really  lew  great  men;  great  orators,  men  of 
mark,  distinguished  authors  or  men  of  towering 
success,  are  few.  If  a  princely  donation  is  made, 
or  a  noble  deed  done,  and  the  name  withhold, 
tho  pubUc  at  once  point  out  the  man— it  would  1)0 
so  like  him.  Bad  talented  men  arc  few.  Adroit 
rogues  are  not  manv.  Men  capable  of  a  dash- 
ing robbery,  a  bold  burglary,  or  great  crimes,  do 
not  abound.  If  a  store  is  broken  open  in  Now 
York,  a  bank  robbed  m  Baltimore,  or  a  heavy 
forgery  in  Boston,  the  detectives  will  exanuno 
the  work  and  toll  who  did  it.  As  painters, 
sculptors,  artists,  engravers,  have  a  style  pe- 
culiar to  themselves,  so  have  rogues.  A  Chicago 
burglar,  a  safo-broaker  from  Boston,  a  bank- 
robber  from  Philadelphia,  a  New  York  thief, 
have  each  their  own  way  of  doing  things.  They 
Cinuot  go  from  one  ciiy  to  another  without  ob- 
servation. If  a  crime  is  committed,  and  these 
gentlemen  are  around,  detection  is  sure  to  fol- 
low. The  telegraph  binds  the  detective  force  to- 
gether in  all  parts  of  the  Union.  A  great  crime 
ifltolegraped  to  every  leading  city.  When  an 
adroit  rogue  leaves  the  city,  his  whereabouts 
are  sent  over  the  wires.  The  detective  on  hie 
track  is  the  gentlemanly-looking,  affable  per- 
sonage with  whom  he  has  been  chatting  in  the 
railroad  car.  The  rogue  lauds  in  New  York, 
and  the  friendly  hand  that  helps  him  up  the 
gang-plank,  or  off  the  platform,  is  that  of  a  de- 
tective. A  keen  eye  is  upon  him  every  moment 
till  he  is  locked  up  or  departs  from  the  city. 
When  he  leaves,  the  car  is  not  out  of  tho  station- 
house  before  the  telegraph  announces  to  some 
detective  far  away  the  departure  and  the  desti- 
nation. His  haunts  are  known,  his  associates, 
the  men  who  receives  stolen  goods,  and  his  part- 
ners in  crime. 

WHY   BOOCES   OO   CLEAR. 

The  detectives  often  recover  goods  and  money 
while  the  criminals  escape.  People  wonder  why 
the  criminals  were  not  brought  to  punishment. 
The  first  duty  of  the  officer  is  to"  bring  the 
offender  to  trial.  But  this  cannot  always  be 
done.  The  evidence  is  often  insufficient.  The 
next  best  thing  is  to  secure  the  money  or  prop- 
erty. Many  robberies  are  committed  in  places 
of  ill-repute.  Parties  are  compromised.  Victims 
from  the  country,  who  are  respectable  at  home, 
do  not  like  to  read  their  names  in  the  newspaper. 
Hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  are  annually 
returned  to  their  owners  through  tho  detectives, 
which  would  have  been  lost  without  their  vigi- 
lance. But  in  many  instances  dishonest  detec- 
tives deliberately  divide  with  the  thieves.  This 
has  been  done  in  several  cases  of  bond  and  bank 
robberies.  By  "arrangement''  possibly  two- 
thirds  of  the  plunder  has  been  returned,  and  the 
remaining  third  shared  by  the  thieves  and  the 
catchers.  This  business  enables  some  of  the 
force  to  wear  big  diamonds,  and  own  and  live  in 
brown  stone  fronts,  on  a  salary  of  $1,200  a  year. 

HE,\DQUABTEB8. 

In  the  elegant  marble  building  on  Mulberry 
Street,  where  the  Metropolitan  Police  force  cen- 
ter, there  will  be  found  the  heqrtquarters  of  the 
detectives.  Though  it  is  under  Ine  charge  of  the 
general  superintendent,  the  detectives  are  an  in- 
dependent body  within  the  police  force.  The 
chief.  Captain  John  S.  Young,  has  been  many 
years  at  tne  head  of  this  department.  He  is  a 
heavy-built,  stocky  person,  with  an  immense 
head  and  face,  sandy  hair,  somewhat  curly,  a 
stolid  and  heavy  look,  and  nothing  but  his  eye 
indicates  that  he  is  the  sharpest,  coolest,  bravest, 
and  most  adroit  detective  in  the  civilized  world 
to-day.  His  room  is  homely,  ill-furnished,  and 
unsightly.  He  never  seems  to  be  doing  anything, 
or  to  have  anything  on  hand,  or  to  be  interested 
in  anything.  His  associates  in  the  room— a  dozen 
men,  more  or  less,  dressed  in  ordinai-y  citizerf  s 
clothes — lie  round  on  the  benches,  straddle  the 
chairs,  lean  up  against  the  wall,  talking,  smok- 
ing, and  doing  nothing,  looking  like  a  band  of 
idle  loafers  without  a  purpose.  In  this  group 
the  uninitiated  would  fail  to  recogniise  the  com- 
pany of  the  most  talented,  persevering,  sharp- 
sighted,  keen-8cent«d,  and  most  successful 
criminal  detectives;  men  who  have  been  in  the 
criminal  business  from  their  boyhood;  men  who 
have  been  selected  from  hundreds,  and  who 
have  been  in  the  force  for  a  quarter  of  a  century. 
They  are  silent,  suspicious,  secretive.  They 
never  talk  of  what  thev  have  on  hand.  Of  the 
past  they  will  speak,  of  the  future  they  have  no- 
thing to  "say.    They  have  incidents  and  adven- 


tures in  their  possession  more  thrilliDg  than  any 
criminal  novel  ever  written.  In  their  room  I 
passed  a  night  not  long  since,  and  learned  from 
them  the  romantic  incidents  that  I  am  about  k> 
state. 

THE    ARREST  OF   A    PICKPOCKET. 

Said  one  of  the  detectives,  "The  chief  called 
for  mo  one  day,  and  put  a  case  in  my  hands, 
which  I  was  required  to  work  up.  A  gentleman 
of  tho  city,  who  was  supposed  to  be  worth  a  for-, 
tunc,  sufldenly  failed.  His  failure  was  a  bad: 
one,  but  his  honor  was  without  a  stain.  He  was 
guardian  for  two  orphan  children,  and  took  tho 
cars  one  morning  for  tho  purpose  of  investing 
some  three  thousand  dollars  that  he  held  in  tho 
name  of  the  children.  When  he  reached  the 
office  up  town,  where  the  investment  was  to  bo 
made,  he  found  his  money  was  gone.  He  had 
been  robbed  iu  tlio  cars.  In  great  distress  he 
came  to  the  office,  and  communicated  his  loss 
to  the  chief.  He  said,  when  he  was  rich  bis  tale 
of  robbery  would  have  been  believed;  now  he 
was  poor,  it  would  bo  said  that  he  had  robbed 
himself.  I  examined  the  man  closely,  and  had 
no  doubt  that  his  story  was  a  true  one.  He  had 
but  little  light  to  throw  on  the  robbery.  The  car 
was  crowded,  and  he  stood  on  the  platform.  He 
renieuibcrod  that  during  the  passage,  as  a  per- 
son got  out  of  the  car,  a  young  man  was  thrown 
against  him.  He  had  a  dim  recollection  of  the 
person,  thinking  no  wrong  at  the  time.  Car- 
robbing  is  very  common,  but  it  is  very  delicate 
business,  and  few  can  do  it  well.  I  had  my  sus- 
picions as  to  who  committed  the  robbery.  I  took 
a  car  to  go  down  town.  In  it  was  the  very  per- 
son I  was  in  search  of.  His  new  clothes,  new  hat, 
and  boots,  and  watch,  indicated  that  he  was 
flush.  I  stopped  the  car,  touched  the  young  man 
on  the  shoulder,  and  told  him  to  follow  me.  His 
face  crimsoned  in  an  instant,  and  I  knew  that  I 
had  got  my  man.  I  took  him  to  the  station-house, 
and  accused  him  of  the  crime.  I  told  him  that 
the  man  who  had  lost  the  money  would,  in  the 
language  of  pickpockets,  'buff  him  to  death'  i' 
he  did  not  restore  tho  money;  but  if  he  would 
'  turn  up  the  money '  he  might  clear  out.  These 
robbers,  all  of  them,  have  accomplices.  They 
never  can  tell  when  they  'peach.'  I  had  no  evi- 
dence that  would  convict  this  person.  No  judge 
would  hold  him  a  minute  on  my  suspicion,  but 
the  thief  did  not  know  that.  He  pulled  off  his 
boots  and  the  money  came  back,  all  but  one 
hundred  dollars  which  he  had  spent.  The  grate- 
ful merchant  received  it  with  tears  of  joy. 

AN   OLD   Man   in    TROUBLE. 

' '  Very  few  men  who  come  here  for  relief," 
said  one  of  the  officers,  "  tell  the  truth.  They 
make  up  all  sorts  of  stories  to  impose  upon  us, 
to  save  their  reputation,  and  to  keep  themselves 
out  of  trouble.  If  a  man  tells  us  the  truth,  if 
he  has  been  robbed  at  a  bad  house,  and  de- 
scribe the  parties  by  whom  he  has  been  robbed 
or  wronged,  we  can  relieve  him.  We  can  go  on 
board  of  a  train  of  cars  filled  with  hundreds  of 
people,  and  tap  a  pickpocket  on  his  shoulder,  and 
say,  '  I  want  to  see  you,  sir,'  and  never  make  a 
mistake.  We  can  take  a  telegraphic  description 
of  a  rogue,  and  with  it  walk  up  Broadway,  where 
thousands  are  rushing  along,  pick  out  our  man 
and  march  him  to  the  Tombs,  and  never  get  the 
wrong  person.  One  day  a  sedate-looking  man 
from  the  rural  districts  called  at  our  office.  He 
was  a  merchant,  he  said.  He  came  to  the  city  to 
buy  goods.  He  had  been  robbed  of  fifteen  hun- 
dred dollars,  which  he  was  to  pay  that  day.  He 
was  a  ruined  man  unless  he  could  recover  his 
money.  He  named  the  hotel  where  he  staid, 
and  in  which  he  had  been  robbed.  His  room- 
mate, a  man  unknown  to  him,  was  asleep  when 
he  went  to  bed,  and  asleep  when  he  left  the  room 
in  the  morning.  He  had  not  been  out  of  the  ho- 
tel since  tea,  till  he  discovered  his  robbery.  The 
man  must  have  robbed  him,  and  he  wanted  him 
arrested  at  once.  Captain  Young  was  satisfied 
that  the  man  ifras  not  telling  the  truth.  He  put 
the  case  in  my  hand,  and  ordered  me  to  work  it 
up.  I  went  to  the  hotel,  and  found  everything 
right  there.  The  room-mate  was  a  merchant 
from  the  West,  of  unquestioned  integrity.  I  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  man  had  not  told  us 
the  truth.  I  knew  that  he  had  been  out  of  the 
hotel,  had  been  kito  disreputable  company,  and 
had  been  robbed.  I  sent  for  the  victim,  and  he 
came,  accompanied  by  a  friend,  who  promised  to 
vouch  for  his  honesty".  I  said  to  him,  '  Sir,  yoa 
have  lied  to  me.  Yon  lost  your  money  in  Dad 
company  by  the  panel  game.  At  first  he  denied 
it  with  great  vehemence,  then  he  evaded,  and 
finally  confessed.  With  a  slight  clew  as  to  tho 
locality,  I  found  the  lanel  thief,  and  brought 
back  the  money." 


24 


THK  GRKAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


A  MINISTER  IN  TBOUBLE. 

"  Ono  day  some  very  excellent  people  came  to 
the  headquartera  to  complam.  The  city  was  un- 
safe for  respectable  men;  people  could  not  walk 
about  the  streets  without  assault  and  robbery. 
It  was  a  pretty  state  of  things  if  gentlemen  could 
not  walk  the  streets  of  New  York  at  reasonable 
hours  without  being  beaten,  bullied,  and  robbed, 
and  their  life  endangered.  '  And  what  is  the 
matter  now  ? '  said  the  ofBcer.  '  We  are  respect- 
able citizens,'  said  the  complamers,  '  and  officers 
of  a  church.  Our  minister  was  assaulted,  and 
beaten,  and  robbed  last  night  in  one  of  the 
streets.  Ho  came  over  to  New  York  yesterday 
afternoon  on  busmess.  Ho  was  returning 
through  Beekman  Street  about  ten  o'clock. 
When  near  Cliflf  Street  a  band  of  rowdies  assailed 
him,  knocked  him  down,  beat  him,  muddied  and 
tore  his  clothes,  robbed  him  of  his  watch  and 
money,  and  he  reached  his  afbughted  family 
almost  dead.'  The  case  was  put  into  our  hands. 
The  night  on  which  the  assault  was  said  to  have 
taken  place,  was  a  beautiful,  bright  moonlight 
evening.  The  place  of  assault  was  so  near  the 
station-house,  that  the  cry  of  distress  would  have 
been  heard  by  the  captain  at  his  desk.  At  that 
time  of  night  a  man  would  have  been  as  safe  on 
Beekman  Street  as  on  Broadway.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  two  of  our  officers  were  on  that  spot 
within  five  minutes  of  the  time  the  assault  was 
said  to  have  taken  place,  conversing  on  matters 
that  detained  them  ten  or  fifteen  minutes.  I  was 
satisfied  that  no  assault  had  taken  place,  that  no 
robbery  had  been  committed;  that  the  whole 
story  was  trumped  up  to  hide  some  disgraceful 
conduct  in  which  the  party  said  to  have  been 
wronged  was  engaged. 

"  With  this  impression,  I  sent  to  the  minister. 
He  was  gp-eatly  annoyed  that  his  people  had 
taken  any  notice  oi  the  matter,  or  brought  it  to 
the  attention  of  the  authorities.  I  told  him  it 
had  been  brought  to  our  attention;  that  wo  were 
censured  for  neglect  of  duty,  and  that  the  fame 
of  the  city  suffered;  that  we  intended  to  probe 
the  matter  to  the  bottom;  that  wo  intended  to 
follow  him  every  step  that  ho  had  taken  that 
afternoon,  from  the  time  he  left  home  till  he  re- 
turned. We  would  know  all  his  companions, 
and  all  the  company  he  had  kept  that  day.  I 
told  him  his  story  was  an  improbable  one;  that 
it  was  impossible  that  the  robbery  could  have  oc- 
curred at  that  time  or  place;  the  night  was  too 
light,  the  hour  was  too  early,  it  was  too  near  the 
station-house,  and  more  than  that,  two  of  our 
captains  were  on  the  spot  at  that  time,  and  they 
knew  the  story  was  not  true.  If  ho  had  a  mind 
to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and  tell  the  facts  as 
they  were,  I  would  keep  his  name  from  the  pub- 
lic; if  not,  I  would  make  a  thorough  investiga- 
tion, aud  publish  his  name  to  the  world.  He 
was  greatly  agitated,  blamed  his  friends  for  med- 
dling in  the  matter,  began  to  cry,  and  at  length 
made  a  clean  breast  of  it.  He  had  been  drinking 
that  afternoon,  went  were  he  ought  not  to  go, 
and  was  robbed  of  his  money  and  his  watch. 
He  must  account  for  his  situation,  did  not  want 
to  be  disgraced,  and  so  bad  trumped  up  the 
4torT  he  told  to  bia  elders.  The  affair  was 
hushed  up." 

A   SEA   CAPTAIN   IN    DIPFICDLTY. 

"The  harbor  police  notified  us,"  said  one  of 
the  detectives,  "that  a  ship  was  lost  ofi' Sandy 
Hook  by  fire.  As  the  case  was  reported,  there 
were  some  things  about  the  loss  that  did  not 
look  right.  The  next  day  the  papers  blazed  with 
an  account  of  a  bold  robbery.  It  was  said 
that  a  sea  captain  lost  a  large  sum  of  money  at 
Bamum's.  The  captain  was  said  to  have  been 
peculiarly  unlortunate.  He  lost  his  ship  by  Sre 
off  Sandy  Hook.  Ho  had  just  been  paid  his  in- 
surance, a  very  largo  sum,  which  ho  was  to  take 
to  his  owners  in  New  England.  Ho  visited  Bar- 
uum's  with  the  money  in  his  Docket,  and  on 
leaving  the  place  it  was  gone.  The  audacious 
robbery  flamed  in  every  paper.  The  statements 
were  so  nearly  verbatim,  that  it  was  evident  the 
captain  had  written  thom  himself  or  furnished 
the  material.  The  captain  issued  handbills, 
offering  a  reward  of  five  hundred  dollars  for  the 
recovery  of  his  money.  The  handbills  were  cir- 
culated only  among  the  shipping  aud  on  the 
wharves.  In  a  few  days  we  received  a  visit  from 
the  captain  at  headquarters.  I  was  put  in 
charge  of  the  case,  and  I  took  down  the  cap- 
tain's statement.  It  differed  but  slightly  from 
those  made  in  the  papers.  I  was  satisfied  that 
he  had  not  been  robbed  at  all.  I  strongly  sus- 
pected that  there  was  foul  play  in  the  destruc- 
tion of  his  vessel,  and  that  the  captain  intended 
to  appropriate  the  money.  Making  up  my  mind 
how  no  did  this,  I  directly  accused  him  of  the 
fraud,  and  described  the  'manner  in  which  the 


affair  was  done.  He  supposed  I  knew  the  whole 
matter,  although  he  could  not  imagine  how  I  got 
hold  of  it,  and  was  greatly  excited.  He  was  as- 
tounded when  I  told  him  that  the  money  was  in 
his  inner  vest  pocket,  and  that  if  he  4id  not  take 
it  out  at  once  1  should  search  him,  and  he  must 
take  the  consequences.  I  hit  the  thing  exactly. 
He  had  his  money  hid  away  in  the  place  I  had 
designated.  In  tears  and  in  terror  he  brought 
forth  the  money,  which  was  restored  to  the  owner. 
We  could  not  hold  the  man  for  a  criminal  trial 
on  the  evidence  we  had,  and  so  let  him  run.  He 
has  never  sailed  from  New  York  since." 

BUBOLAB  DETECTED  BY  A  BUTTON. 

A  large  silk  house  m  New  York  was  robbed  of 
silks  and  velvets  valued  at  many  thousand  dol- 
lars. The  burglars  hired  an  old  building  ad- 
joining the  store.  They  cut  a  hole  through  the 
wall,  entered  the  store,  and  carried  away  the 
goods.  The  job  was  a  clean  one,  and  no" trace 
of  the  robber  was  left.  The  police  shook  their 
heads,  and  the  merchants  leared  they  were 
ruined.  One  of  the  shrewdest  detectives  had  the 
case  put  into  his  hands.  He  examined  the  prem- 
ises carefully.  The  hole  in  the  wall  was  a  small 
one,  and  the"  burglar  squeezed  himself  through 
with  difficulty.  In  a  little  crevice  a  button  was 
found  of  a  very  peculiar  fashion.  A  little  plaster 
adhered  to  it,  indicating  that  it  had  been  rubbed 
off  as  the  robber  passed  through.  The  detective 
put  the  button  in  his  pocket.  He  had  a  clew, 
very  slight,  but  still  it  was  a  clew.  There  are 
certain  resorts  in  this  city  for  thieves,  burglars, 
and  rogues.  Here  they  can  be  found  when  off 
duty.  Detectives  pass  in  and  out  among  these 
desperate  men.  They  never  meddle  with  them 
on  ordinary  occasions.  They  are  seldom  dis- 
turbed by  the  desperadoes,  or  resisted  if  they 
make  an  arrest.  It  is  well  known  that  the  de- 
tectives go  armed,  and  have  no  delicacy  in  the 
use  of  weapons.  They  are  selected  for  their 
personal  bravery  no  less  than  for  their  intelli- 
gence and  integrity.  The  detective,  with  the 
button  in  his  pocket,  visited  more  frequently 
these  haunts  than  he  was  accustomed  to.  The 
burglars  knew  something  was  the  matter;  but  as 
the  detective  said  nothing  and  molested  no  one, 
the  rogues  were  not  disturbed.  One  evening  the 
detective  stood  at  the  door  of  one  of  our  low 

E laces  of  amusement.  A  man  passed  him  who 
ad  peculiar  buttons  on  his  coat.  The  buttons 
resembled  the  one  the  officer  had  in  his  pocket. 
Ho  was  sure  that  ho  had  found  his  man.  Ho  fol- 
lowed him  to  his  seat,  sat  down  beside  him,  aud 
seemed  intent  on  the  play.  He  was  not  so  intent, 
however,  but  that  he  saw  that  the  party  he  was 
watching  had  one  button  loss  on  his  coat  than  he 
ought  to  have.  Ho  immediately  left  his  seat, 
went  outside,  and  made  arrangement  for  aid  to 
make  an  arrest.  He  came  back  to  his  seat, 
touched  the  astonished  stranger  on  the  shoulder, 
and  invited  him  outside.  Here  a  corps  of  po- 
licemen were  waiting  to  receive  him,  and  he  saw 
that  resistance  was  useless.  Knowing  that  the 
man  could  not  bo  held  an  hour  with  no  proof  but 
a  button,  the  detective  set  himself  to  work  to  get 
the  goods.  He  accused  the  man  of  the  robbery, 
showed  him  how  it  was  done,  aud  hit  the  case  so 
exactly  that  the  burglar  believed  that  some  of 
his  confederates  had  made  a  confession.  He  led 
the  officers  to  the  spot  where  the  goods  were 
concealed.  The  party  was  tried  and  sent  to  the 
State  prison  for  flterni  of  years.  The  button  did 
more  tlian  that.  The  arrest  of  this  man  put  the 
detectives  on  tho  track  of  other  burglars.  They 
followed  up  the  matter  for  months,  broke  up  a 
den  of  the  most  desperate  robbers,  lodged  many 
of  them  in  prison,  among  whom  was  the  famous 
Bristol  Bill  of  England. 

A    SHADOW   ON    THE   PATH. 

Small  sums  of  money  from  time  to  time  were 
taken  from  one  of  our  city  banks.  No  clew  to 
the  robbery  could  bo  found.  A  detective  was 
consulted;  ne  said  that  the  robber  was  in  the 
bank.  A  watch  was  put  on  all  employees,  but  in 
vain.  The  money  continued  to  go.  Tho  affair 
was  put  into  the  hands  of  a  detective.  All  un- 
known to  the  clerks,  this  officer  visited  tho  bank 
at  all  hours,  came  in  various  disguises  aud  un- 
der various  pretences  He  was  satisfied  that 
the  robber  was  in  tho  bank,  and  he  fastened  on 
one  of  the  clerks  as  that  individual.  Ho  fol- 
lowed the  clerk  fourteen  days,  at  the  end  ot 
which  a  written  statement  of  tlie  whereabouts  of 
the  clerk  was  presented  to  the  bank.  It  was  a 
perfect  curiosity.  The  detective  had  not  lost 
sight  of  the  wliereabouts  of  the  young  man  a 
single  hour.  Tho  clerk  lived  out  of  town.  Tho 
detective  rode  on  the  cars  with  him  every  day. 
Ho  sailed  on  the  boats,  walked  in  the  country, 
rode  in  the  city.    Every  place  the  clerk  went  into 


was  written  down,  how  long  he  staid,  what  he 
ate  and  drank,  and  whom  he  talked  with.  A  de- 
scription was  given  of  each  person  he  talked 
with,  tho  places  of  amusement  ho  visited,  aud 
what  he  paid  out.  Among  other  thmgs  the  rec- 
ord told,  was  his  visits  to  gaming  and  other 
houses;  what  time  be  went  to  bed;  and  twice  ho 
rose  at  two  in  the  morning,  left  his  house,  and 
met  certain  parties,  who  were  accurately  de- 
scribed. How  a  man  could  be  followed  fourteen 
days,  especially  in  the  country,  all  that  he  is  do- 
ing be  known,  everybody  he  speaks  to  described, 
and  the  man  watched  bo  ignorant  of  it,  is  one  of 
the  mysteries  of  the  detective  system.  The  clerk 
was  called  into  the  president's  room  and  charged 
with  the  peculations.  He  was  overwhelmed  with 
tho  accuracy  with  which  his  coming  in  and  going 
out  were  noted.  He  confessed  his  guilt.  The 
directors  were  merciful,  and  did  not  subject  him 
to  a  criminal  prosecution. 

PBTVATE  DETECTIVB8. 

The  success  of  detectives  in  criminal  matters, 
as  a  part  of  the  police,  has  created  a  private  de- 
tective system,  which  is  at  the  service  of  any  one 
who  can  pay  for  it.  It  is  a  spy  system — a  system 
of  espionage  that  is  not  creditable  or  safe.  Mep 
are  watched  and  tracked  about  the  city  by  Uiest 
gentlemen,  and  one  cannot  tell  when  a  spy  is  on 
his  track.  A  jealous  wife  will  put  a  detective  on 
the  track  of  her  husband,  wtio  will  follow  him  for 
weeks  if  paid  for  it,  and  lay  before  her  a  complete 
programme  of  his  acts  and  expenditures.  If  a 
man  wants  a  divorce,  he  hires  a  detective  to  fur- 
nish the  needed  evidence.  Slander  suits  are  got 
up,  conducted,  and  maintained  often  by  this 
agency.  Divorce  suits  are  carried  through  our 
courts  by  evidence  so  obtained.  Sudden  ex- 
plosions m  domestic  life,  the  dissolution  of 
households,  and  family  separations  originate  in 
this  system.  It  is  not  very  comforting  to  know 
that  such  shadows  are  on  our  paths. 


THE  RIVER-PIBATE. 


Mant  interesting  articles  in  this  work  have  . 
been  culled  from  Nathan  D.   Umer's  contribu- 
tions to  the  New  York  Weekly,  and  the  following 
18  from  the  same  source: 

Infinitely  less  courageous  aud  manly  than  his 
bolder  prototype  ot  the  open  sea,  but  quite  as 
ruthless,  treacherous  and  deadly  is  tho  repre- 
sentative of  that  class  of  criminals  who,  from 
tho  naturo  of  their  vocation,  have  received  the 
general  denomination  of  River-Pirates. 

They  haunt  the  harbors  of  all  large  sea-ports, 
and  scores,  even  hundreds  of  them  pureuo  their 
nefarious  calling,  under  tho  cover  of  darkness, 
in  tho  waters  surrounding  tho  island  city  of  New 
York.  They  generally  livo  on  the  outskirts  and 
m  tho  thinlv  settled  districts,  usually  occupying 
some  wretched  cabin  between  the  water  and  the 
edge  of  some  marsh,  whose  low-lying  ground 
prevents  its  being  generally  built  upon;  but 
manv  of  them  also  live  among  the  vile  sailors' 
haunts  which  skirt  the  North  and  East  rivers  in 
tho  lower  portion  of  the  city.  Their  near-teth- 
ered boats,  a  pair  of  oars  anS  a  few  boat-hooks, 
constitute  their  sole  mode  of  operation.  And 
with  these,  on  dark  nights— the  blacker  and 
■tormier  the  more  favorable— they  issue  forth, 
singly,  in  pairs,  or  in  groups  of  three  or  four, 
on  their  missions  of  evil. 

Barges,  canal  boats  and  rafts  are  stealthily 
boarded,  when  it  can  bo  done  with  comparative 
safety— for  the  sneak-thief  of  the  water  is  a 
coward,  though,  rat-like,  he  will  mostly  turn 
when  brought  to  bay.  and  fight  with  despera- 
tion—often to  the  death. 

No  variety  of  plunder  is  despised  by  the  River- 
Pirate.  Everytniug  that  comes  to  his  felonious 
hand— from  a  Landful  of  oakum,  or  a  raveled 
ropo's-end,  to  a  qiiadrant,  telescope  or  a  packace 
of  freight — speedily  finds  its  way  into  his  little 
boat,  as  it  rocks  upon  the  somber  tide,  and  is 
thence  conveyed  to  the  shore  for  "planting" 
(i.  e.,  burying),  or  to  the  numerous  thieves' 
"  fences  "  "which  exist  for  this  specialty  of  plun- 
der all  over  the  citv. 

The  larger  vessels— steamers,  ships,  barks  and 
brigs— are  mostly  shunned  on  account  of  the 
numerous  watches  patroling  tho  decks;  but 
small  coasting  schooners  and  sloops,  which, 
while  at  anchor  at  night,  are  usually  left  in  the 
charge  of  a  woman  or  boy,  or  a  single  seaman, 
aro  looked  upon  as  peculiarly  excellent  sources 
of  robbery.  Indeed,  cases  aro  not  infrequent 
where  the  water-robber  ventures  to  attack  and 
overpower  the  watch,  and  at  such  timea  there  le 
an  element  of  romance  even  in  his  ignoble  and 
villainous  calling. 


THK   GREAT    EMPIRE   Cl^rV. 


25 


TUc  tempest  l8  d«rk  and  from  shore  to  ahore 
(iuriiles  aud  Kroans  tiiu  iucoiiiiDK  tide, 

As.  witli  noiselesH  keel  and  muffled  oar, 
Like  a  priaiitoiu  lie  (flides  o'er  the  waters  wide— 

neartless,  wltli  baiely  a  soul  to  save, 

Tlie  cowardly,  lowbrowed  thief  of  tUc  wave. 

Swinging  alone  on  the  swells  of  tlie  stream 
>      Is  the  anchored  scliooner  just  home  from  afar. 
While  the  storm-lit  heavens  relieve,  like  a  dream, 

The  taper-beau  IV  of  mast  and  spar- 
On  her  deck  a  single  lone  watcher  a-drowse. 
While  his  comrades  away  in  the  city  carouse. 

Kot  the  sound  of  an  oar  In  rowlock  or  wave. 
But  the  skiff  of  the  robber  swims  swift  as  a  gull; 

Cat-like  and  agile,  b\it  still  as  the  grave, 
He  clambers  the  side  of  the  low,  dark  hull, 

And,  crouching,  glides  like  a  shadow  along, 

While  the  sailor  smokes,  aud  bums  a  song: 

A  song  of  the  shore  and  of  friendly  calls. 
Or  a  rollicking  ditty  of  devil-may-care, 

Wueu  crash!  the  cowardly  bludgeon  falls, 
And  Jack  lies,  bleeding"  and  moveless,  there. 

He  has  voyaged  bis  last,  and  silent  and  dim 

The  port  of  the  lufluite  opens  for  him. 

From  deck  to  deck  the  plunderer  roves. 
Then,  with  noiseless  keel  and  muffled  oar. 

Away  from  the  low,  dark  hull  he  shoves, 
Aud  his  laden  boat  moves  back  to  the  shore. 

or  the  theft  and  the  crime  of  poor  Jack  laid  low. 

Only  the  stream  and  those  black  piers  know. 

Through  the  obliging  good  nature  of  a  detec- 
tive pohceman,  I  ouco  had  au  opportunity  of  in- 
specting the  interior  of  one  of  the  "  fences  "  os- 
tabhshod  for  the  convenience  ot  the  Kiver-Pi- 
latea.  It  was  in  a  deep,  tilthv  basement,  not  a 
stone's  throw  from  the  rear  wall  of  Trinity  Church 
— and  was,  altogether,  one  of  the  strangest  plaoes 
I  was  ever  in. 

After  fctuinbling  down  a  dozou  moist  and  dirty 
stone  stops,  the  proprietor  lighted  ua  through  a 
long  passageway  to  tno  rear  basement.  This  was 
quite  roomy,  aud  was  tilled  with  every  descrip- 
tion ot  stolen  ship's  property.  The  floor  was 
littered  with  casks,  boxes,  baskets,  packages, 
aud  heaps  of  oakum,  tow,  tarred  twine,  and 
pieces  of  rone;  aud  a  bright  looking  uegress 
occupied  a  cuair  in  the  middle,  busily  engaged 
in  assorting  oakum.  Tho  shelves  surrounding 
the  apartment  were  heaped  with  articles  of  a 
nicer  nature,  and  upon  a  small  counter  I  noticed 
a  first-rate  compass,  a  costly  ship's  quadrant, 
and  a  large  telescope,  which  appeared  to  be 
brand  new.  A  close,  tarry  smell,  lute  that  of  the 
bold  of  a  ship,  burdened  the  atmosphere  very 
unpleasantly. 

Whilst  we  were  inspecting  this  curious  hole, 
au  ill-looking  ruffian,  in  muddy  top  boots,  greasy 
pea-jacket,  and  frayed  fur-cap,  tramped  noisily 
m,  bendin"  under  "the  weight  of  a  coil  of  bright 
uew  Manilla  rope,  which  he  cast  down  with  a 
grunt  oi  satisfaction,  but  started  back  alarmedly 
as  he  caught  sight  of  the  detective. 

"It's  all  right,  Moody,"  said  the  fence-keeper, 
looking  up  from  the  rope  which  he  had  stooped 
to  examine.  "The  gentleman  is  not  here  on 
'  business.'  " 

The  two  retired  together,  I  heard  the  chink  of 
coin  (it  was  before  these  days  of  greenbacks), 
and  the  proprietor  presently  returned  alone.  He 
was  an  Irishman  of  about  sixty,  whose  personal 
appearance — which  could  never  have  been  pre- 
possessing— was  no  means  beautified  by  the  fact 
that  he  had  only  one  arm,  one  eye,  and  a  ghastly 
scar  on  his  left  cheek.  He  made  note  of  my 
scrutiny,  and  said,  in  a  half-apologetic,  half- 
explanatory  way,  and  with  a  grin  which  rendered 
Lis  features  ten  times  more  repulsive: 

"I  was  meself  one  of  the  b'yes  at  one  time, 
sir;  but  I  got  so  badly  cut  up  "by  the  harbor- 
cops  "  (harbor  police)  "  that  1  retired  from  ac- 
tive life  and  became  a  merchant,  as  you  see  for 
yourself." 

V  He  offered  to  go  into  a  long,  rambling  sketch 
,  of  the  manner  in  which  he  received  his  mutila- 
tions, but  I  was  sick  with  the  noisome  atmos- 
phere of  the  place,  and  restrained  him,  th<)ugh  I 
nave  since  had  occasion  to  regret  that  I  did  so." 

"Is  all  this  stolen  property?  "  I  inquired. 

He  grinned  assent,  but  dii  not  speak. 

"  And  how  do  vou  manage  to  dispose  of  it  with 
s.%fety?" 

"  That,"  said  he.  with  a  wag  of  the  head  and  a 
knowing  air  of  reticence,  "is  one  of  the  thrioks 
of  the  thrade." 

As  it  was  evident  that  he  would  disclose  noth- 
ing of  interest  regardin.;;  the  "  thricks,"  and  the 
smell  of  the  place  had  grown  almost  unbearable, 
we  speedily  quitted  it  and  gained  the  open  air. 

Owing  to  the  vigilance  of  our  harbor-police — 
probably  one  of  the  best  organized  and  most 
efficient  forces  of  its  kmd  in  the  world — the  New 
York  River  Pirates  of  the  present  day,  though 
far  more  numerous,  are  leas  bold  aud  "extensive 


in  thoir  undertakings  than  they  were  some  fifteen 
years  ago.  At  that  time  the  harbor-police  wore 
comparatively  few  in  numbers,  and  though  com- 

f)08ed  of  steiiing,  hardy  men,  worked  with  but 
ittle  system.  Tliey  also  patrolled  the  waters  in 
row-boats  nearly  altogether,  which,  of  course, 
gave  the  wator-tbio  vcs  a  much  better  opportunity 
of  eluding  pursuit  than  in  tho  present  day  of 
swift  steam-tugs  and  the  all-ramifying  wire's  of 
the  police  telegraph. 

The  deeds  aud  tragic  cud  of  Atlantic  Craig,  a 
somewhat  notorious  Itivor-Pirate,  who  flourished 


about  flftoeu  years  ago,  iu  tho  vicinity  of  New 
himself  one  of  the  chief  actors  in  tho  scenes  he 


auuuv    iitiA^t.u     jvmo     *»h"»    »"     '"^    ..^^i«»v.     v^»     *.^ 

York,  related  to  me  by  an  old  ex-policeman 


depicted— contain  enough  of  the  dramatic  aud 
romantic,  I  tliink,  to  admit  of  its  concluding  this 
ariicle  appropriately. 

Atlantic  Craig  lived  with  his  wife  and  daughter 
in  a  little  cabin,  situated  near  the  water's  edge, 
in  a  singularly  lonely  place  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Oroenpoint,  Long  island.  He  was  a  river- 
robber  for  many  years,  and  though  bold  and 
reckless  in  his  enterprises,  there  was  a  method 
in  his  madness,  a  shrewdness  and  perfect  knowl- 
edge of  his  calling,  which  long  enabled  him  to 
pursue  it  in  defiance  of  the  authorities.  He  was 
also  a  power  among  his  follow  pirates,  who  looked 
up  to  him  as  a  sort  of  chieftain,  and  under  his 
leadership  many  an  extensive  ehip-robbery  was 
executed  so  cleverly,  aud  the  accruing  spoils 
disposed  of  so  adroitly  as  to  render  discovery 
all  out  impossible.  It  was  also  known,  almost 
to  a  certainty,  that  he  had  committed  numerous 
murders;  biit  the  evidence  was  wanting  to  bring 
them  home  to  him,  and,  unwhipped  of  justice, 
he  still  continued  to  roam,  the  terror  of  tho 
streams. 

Little  was  known  of  hie  private  life  save  that 
he  had  a  pretty  daughter,  who  had  more  than 
once  excited  the  admiration  of  tho  passengers  on 
by-goiu"  packets,  as  was,  now  and  then,  seen 
nioving  Dare-footed  and  bare-headed  through  the 
long  grass  of  tho  marshes,  or,  perhaps,  mending 
a  fishing-net  in  front  of  her  father's  hut.  It  was 
also  said  that  she  was  identical  with  a  certain 
anonyma,  of  extraordinary  beauty,  who  was  oc- 
casionly  seen  on  the  Broadway  promenade,  and 
the  elegance  and  costhness  of  whose  attire  at- 
tracted great  attention  and  enhanced  the  mys- 
tery m  which  she  moved;  but  I  know  nothmg  of 
the  truth  of  the  report.  At  any  rate,  it  was 
known  that  her  father  would  not  scruple  to  lav- 
ish any  amount  of  his  ill-gotten  wealth  upon  her, 
were  she  inclined  to  use  it. 

For  months  and  years  did  the  hardy  patrolmen 
of  tho  harbor  .police  strive  to  brmg  some  deed 
actually  home  to  Atlantic  Craig,  but  he  was  too 
agile  and  shrewd  for  them.  One  of  the  best  and 
sturdiest  oarsmen  of  our  time,  he  would  issue, 
under  cover  of  night,  alone  in  his  boat,  from  the 
sedgy  margin  of  his  home,  and  explore  the 
waters  for  miles,  baffling  or  eluding  pursuit  by 
the  power  of  his  oar,  aud  returning  home  with 
valuable  spoils,  which  ho  knew  only  too  well  how 
to  conceal  from  the  prying  investigation  of  a 
search-warrant. 

One  night,  however,  a  coastwise  steamer, 
richly  laden,  was  partially  wrecked  and  deserted 
by  her  crew,  on  the  rocks  of  Hell  Gate,  just  as  it 
opens  and  surges  into  the  river  from  the  sound. 

The  police  received  intelligence,  through  some 
means,  that  the  Eiver-Pirates,  under  Atlantic 
Craig's  guidance,  would  "gut"  the  vessel  of 
everything  valuable  before  morning;  and  seizing 
the  opportunity  of  taking  their  olden  enemy,  au 
official  long-boat,  manned  by  twelve  of  the  best 
oarsmen  in  the  force,  and  containing  six  of  the 
boldest,  hardiest  officers,  was  dispatched  to  the 
scene  of  the  wreck. 

It  approached  so  swiftly  and  cautiously  that 
the  pirates  were  surprisedin  their  work  of  plun- 
der. Several  were  captured,  and  the  rest  scat- 
tered away  like  a  flock  of  cranes.  Atlantic 
Craig's  boat,  distinguished  by  a  belt  of  crimson 
round  the  sides,  plainly  seen  in  the  moonlight, 
was  observed  far  away  fleeing,  like  a  phantom, 
toward  the  boiling  waters  of  Hell  Gate,  and  the 
police-boat  pressed  on  iu  pursuit,  giving  little  of 
their  attention  to  smaller  fry,  that  might  have 
been  easily  captured. 

There  were  twelve  rowers  to  one,  and  at  first 
they  steadily  gained  on  him.  But  soon  they  en- 
tered the  troubled  waters  of  the  Gate,  where  the 
waves  swirled  and  tumbled  over  the  half  sunken 
rocks,  like  the  rapids  of  a  cataract 

It  was  half-tide,  which  rendered  it  still  more 
perilous,  and  the  long-boat  had  to  pick  her  way 
with  some  caution  among  the  wild  eddies  and 
whirlpools  ot  the  ocean  pass.  But  the  light  boat 
of  tho  Pirate  danced  like  an  eggshell  over  the 
boiling  surges.  The  long  sweeps  and  strong 
arms  of  the  oarsman,  together  with  his  perfect 
knowledge  of  every  inch  of  the  way,  enabled  him 


^o  obtain  a  signal  advantage  over  his  pursuers. 
But  his  over  confidence  proved  bis  ruin.  Dis- 
regarding his  customary  caution,  he  fearlessly 
breasted  a  huge  wave  that  came  rolling  lu  on 
the  increase  of  the  tidal  action,  and  in  an  in- 
stant was  cast  upon  a  broad  rock  that  rose  like 
the  back  of  a  huge  tortoise  from  the  troubled 
stream. 

Dauntless  still,  ho  dragged  his  shell  away, 
sprang  in  again,  and  was  once  more  afloat  aud 
dashing  down  the  rapids.  But  the  delay  he  had 
sustained  by  tho  accident  had  afforded  a  great 
advantage  to  his  pursuers,  who  were  now  but  a 
few  yards  in  his  wake.  They  were  approaching 
smooth  water,  where  ho  knew  that  the  strength 
of  the  dozen  strong  oars  would  speedily  over- 
haul him. 

Something  must  be  done  at  once.  The  Pirat<J 
chose  tho  last  resort  of  desperation.  He  dropped 
his  ours  for  an  instant,  raised  a  pistol  aud  fired. 

The  bow  oarsman  in  the  official  boat  uttered 
a  shriek  and  fell  forward,  dead,  while  the  long, 
important  sweep  fell,  useless,  from  his  nervous 
grasp. 

The  Pirate  resumed  his  oars,  and,  with  z  wild 
laugh,  sped  onward  like  a  sea-bird.  Everything 
was  at  a  stake  with  him  now — he  had  sealed  his 
life  of  infamy  with  the  crime  of  witnessed  mur- 
der— and  he  pulled  with  desperation. 

But  the  confusion  on  board  the  long-boat  was 
but  of  momentary  duration.  An  officer  sprang  to 
take  the  place  of  the  fallen  man,  aud  again  they 
were  hot  in  the  wake  of  tho  fugitive. 

Shot  after  shot  was  discharged  at  him,  but  still 
bo  sped  on.  When  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
shore,  he  sprang  from  his  boat,  capsizing  it  in 
doing  so,  gamed  the  land,  and,  tottering  forward, 
fell  upon  his  face  at  the  door  of  his  own  cabin. 

When  the  officers  landed,  two  women — wife 
and  daughter — were  moaning  and  weeping  over 
the  fallen  form;  but  Atlantic  Craig,  the  Robber 
of  the  Stream,  was  stone  dead,  having  been 
pierced  by  four  pistol-balls. 

The  above  sketch — which  is  perfectly  true,  ex- 
cept that  the  name  of  the  principal  actor  is  altered 
— narrates  an  incident  which  will  hardly  be  re- 
peated again  in  the  annals  of  river-piracy.  The 
two  women  quitted  their  cabin  shortly  after  the 
death  of  Craig,  and  were  never  heard  of  again; 
but  the  tragic  end  of  this  captain  contributed 
greatly  to  intimidate  his  fellow  pirates;  and 
criminals  of  this  class  are  now  mostly  of  the 
sneak-thief  order. 


HALF  A  DAY  IN  CHINATOWN. 

A  BEPOBTEU  who  had  been  so  often  to  Mott 
Street  on  newspaper  errands  that  he  was  cred- 
ited with  knowing  a  great  deal  about  the  Chinese, 
made  a  tour  of  that  thoroughfare  with  Mr.  Wong 
Chin  Foo  recently,  in  order  to  justify  his  repu- 
tation and  really  find  out  something  about  those 
queer  people.  "Nearly  all  that  has  been  written 
about  the  colony  relates  to  the  gambling  and 
opium  dens,  and  he  resolved  to  avoid  those 
places  and  try  to  obtain  a  little  closer  knowledge 
of  the  people  themselves  than  has  been  gained 
by  mere  observation. 

The  reporter  began  by  finding  out  that  his 
companion  is  not  surnamed  Foo,  as  one  would 
suppose,  but  is  Mr.  Wong,  Foo  being  his  first 
giveu  name  and  Chin  his  middle  name.  In  order 
to  be  thoroughly  consistent  and  contrary,  the 
Chinese  always  'put  their  family  names  first. 
When  they  oinit  their  given  names,  they  put 
"  Ah  "  ahead  of  their  surnames  and  call  them- 
selves Ah  Wong  or  Ah  Lee.  Mr.  Wong  could 
not  explain  this  satisfactorily,  but  the  reporter 
got  the  idea  that  Ah  means  "something  like  our 
Mr.  Next  the  reporter  discovered  that  tho  names 
by  which  we  address  our  laundrymen,  and  which 
we  take  the  pains  to  learn  from  "the  signs  in  front 
of  their  shops,  are  iu  most  cases  not  their  names 
at  all,  but  merely  represent  the  best  efforts  of  the 
sign  painters  to  convey  in  paint  the  sounds  their 
customers  tell  them  "they  want  on  their  signs; 
consequently  there  is  no  such  name  as  Moon 
Shine,  which  is  painted  over  a  Third  Avenue 
laundry.    That  is  merely  painters'  Chinese. 

Mr.  Wong  is  the  editor  of  the  Chinese  American. 
He  talks  English  better  than  many  of  our  largest 
Broadway  merchants,  and  has  gio\va  bold  enough 
to  make  jokes  in  it.  He  writes  it  with  even  more 
courage  and  confidence.  He  is  31  years  old,  and 
was  born  in  the  northern  part  of  China,  whence, 
after  declaring  war  on  the  Emperor,  he  fled  to 
Grand  Rapids,  Mich.  Here  he  cut  off  his  pig- 
tail, put  on  button  shoes,  a  frock  coal,  linen 
shirt,  and  Derby  hat,  and  became  an  American 
citizen.  Now  he  eats  alternately  Chinese  and 
American  meals,  and  mixes,  in  moderation,  l£^er 
beer  with  rice  brandy.  His  editorial  room  diners 
from  the  others  in"  this  country  in  poaaeaaing 


THE  GREAT   EMPTFE   CITY. 


four  bannerets,  each  bearing  a  picture  of  a 
Chinese  woman,  and  representing  the  fashions 
in  female  attire  in  the  good  old  days  of  about 
1100  B.  C,  before  modern  mistakes  in  dressmak- 
ing began  to  creep  into  the  sealed  empire.  Mr. 
Wong  says  that  tne  dresses  represented  in  his 
pictures  are  beautiful.  Doubtless  he  is  right 
'  from  hia  point  of  view.  The  excellence  of  his 
taste  is  shown  in  his  positive  statement  that 
-  now-a-days  the  Chinese  women  do  not  dress 
beautifully. 

He  says  that  he  is  the  only  man  from  northern 
China  in  New  York.  He  comes  from  one  of  the 
three  provinces  in  which  the  people  speak  the 
i  Mandarin  or  court  tongue.  That  is  the  language 
in  which  all  Chinese  books  are  written,  and  any 
educated  Chinaman  can  understand  him  when 
he  speaks  it.  Every  Chinese  province,  except 
the  Mandarin  provinces,  has  a  language  of  its 
own,  and  Mr.  Wong  says  that  the  Chineso  in 
New  York  are  from  a  s'outhern  province,  and 
that  he  has  had  to  loam  what  is  practically  a 
foreign  tongue  in  order  to  associate  with  them. 

"  They  are  the  Yankees  of  China,"  he  said, 
"  and  have  always  shown  a  courage  and  enter- 
prise that  distinguishes  them  from  the  rest  of 
their  countrymen.  At  home  these  New  York 
laundrymen  were  farmers  and  small  shopkeep- 
ers. There  are  some  among  them  who  were 
poor,  and  had  to  borrow  to  come  here.  They 
came  alone  or  with  strangers,  trusting  to  their 
own  abilitv  to  get  along,  realizing  all  the  chances 
they  ran,  but  mastered  by  the  strength  of  their 
desire  to  make  money  and  return  and  keep  them- 
selves and  their  families  in  comfort.  Among 
them  are  many  who  quitted  Chiua  at  the  ages 
of  12,  13,  and  14,  unaccompanied  by  friends,  and 
without  friends  to  meet  them  here.  They  are 
like  Jews,  able  to  make  money  anywhere  and 
under  almost  any  circumstances.  There  is  in 
this  city  now  a  boy  of  11,  who  brought  money 
with  him,  and  has  hired  some  Chinamen  old 
enough  to  be  fathers  to  hioi  and  has  opened  a 
laundry.  Where  will  you  find  such  a  people 
except  in  China  ?  In  comparison  with  what 
they  do  in  coming  here,  the  Germans,  Irish, 
English,  and  others  who  immigrate,  leaving  one 
'  set  of  Caucasians  to  mingle  with  another  set,  are 
not  venturesome  at  all." 

"If  they  are  so  bold  and  confident,  why  do 

ihey  not  in  many  cases  bring  their  wives  here  ? 

Their  failure  to  do  so  has  strained  their  welcome; 

'    that  and  the  general  belief  that  they  are  only 

here  to  accumulate  and  carry  away  money." 

"Those  charges  against  them  are  all  true,"  Mr. 
Wonjj  said;  "they  do  not  expect  to  stay  here. 
They  come  here  to  hoard  and  take  away  Ameri- 
can money.  Their  emigration  to  the  ncighboriug 
countries  of  Asia  has  been  marked  by  a  different 
feelmg  and  attitude.  They  are  to  bo  found  in 
India,  Japan,  Thibet,  Burmah,  and  Turkestan, 
and  are  content  to  stay  there  with  their  families, 
but  they  realize  how  wholly  distinct  they  are 
from  you  Caucasians,  and  the  barrier  nature  has 
set  up  between  you  and  them  they  acknowledge 
and  do  not  try  to  overcome.  They  simply  hope 
to  make  enough  money  here  to  go  back  and  buy 
houses  and  farms.  Thov  behave  in  this  respect 
exactly  as  Amei-icans  or  "lEuropoans  would  do  in 
Chiua  if  they  went  to  that  country  in  great  num- 
bers. They  do  not  try  to  compete  with  the 
Americans  in  skill  or  art,  because  they  see  that 
all  your  notions  of  those  things  are  widely  differ- 
ent from  theirs.  So  they  settle  down  to  make 
money  at  hard  labor.  They  look  forward  to  a 
return  to  Chiua  just  as  a  good  Christian  hopes 
to  get  to  heaven." 

"  How  did  they  all  become  laundrymen?" 

"  Ten  years  ago  probably  not  one  Chinaman 
now  in  New  York  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  as 
a  laundry.  Many  who  are  in  the  laundries 
never  saw  a  laundry  until  a  year  ago.  They 
learu  the  trade  from  one  another.  The  tlrs't 
[ones  learned  it  in  San  Francisco.  After  that 
every  Chinaman  who  came  to  this  country  first 

Eut  up  at  a  brother  Chinaman's  laundry.     He 
ad  to  make  himself  useful,  and  from  observing 
i    what  the  men  around  him  were  doing,  he  found 
out  how  to  do  it  himself.     Having  mastered  the 
j    two  secrete  of  the  trade,  how  to  make  starch  and 
:■    the  use  of  the  polisher,  he  was  ready  to  hire  out 
as  a  workman  or  to  open  a  laundry  himself. 

"  They  like  New  Y'ork  better  than  any  other 
city  in  America.  They  speak  of  it  in  their  lan- 
guage as  '  a  great  forest.'  See,  here  is  the  Shang- 
hai Zu  Lem  Ye,  a  Chinese  paper.  The  name 
means  '  literature  of  the  forest,  and  the  word 
forest  refers  to  the  houses,  which  in  numbers 
are  to  be  likened  to^tho  trees  in  a  great  wood. 
So  they  find  Now  York  a  city  big  enough  and 
Bufi&ciently  cosmopolitan  [these  are  Mr.  Wong's 
words.— Rep.]  for  them  to  stay  here  without  at- 
tention being  attracted  to  their  dress  and  man- 
ners.    They  are  treated  better  here,  and  t;ct 


more  even  justice  when  trouble  arises,  than  in 
any  other  city.  They  now  number  fully  5,000  in 
New  York,  Brooklyn,  and  Jersey  City,  and  count- 
ing in  all  the  suburbs  there  are  about  7,000. 
They  have  500  laundries,  and  there  are  400  or 
500  cigarmakers,  200  to  300  sailors,  and  a  large 
fioatmg  population  of  gamblers  and  others  who 
do  not  earn  their  living,  and  who,  I  suppose, 
are,  in  America,  to  be  called  gentlemen.  Among 
them  all  are  fifty  or  sixty  American  citizens,  but 
very  few  Christians.'' 

"  They  have  no  churches?  " 

"No;  but  in  all  houses  where  several  are 
gathered  together,  and  in  the  stores  and  more 
or  less  public  places,  they  set  up  their  altars. 
Every  such  establishment  has  its  '  holy  place," 
usually  opposite  or  juot  at  the  side  of  the  main 
entrance.  This  holy  place  consists  of  a  picture 
put  up  against  the  wall,  with  a  table  or  stand 
beneath  it,  on  which  are  put  the  lighted  tapers, 
the  burning  of  which  is  part  of  the  ceremony  of 
worship.    The  picture  is  in  nearly  every  case  a 

Eortrait  of  Owen  Goon.  He  was  a  warrior  who 
rought  together  the  one  hundred  tribes  that 
now  form  Chiua.  In  him  were  blended  good- 
ness, grandeur  of  character,  humanity,  generos- 
ity, piety,  and  all  the  qualities  we  should  admire. 
I'm  going  to  write  a  book  about  him.  The  China- 
men worship  him  by  lighting  tapers,  and  then 
with  bended  heads  offering  up  in  silence  the 
prayers  that  spring  from  their  hearts.  Some  do 
this  every  day,  but  most  do  so  only  on  hohdays. 
"  There's  one  curious  thing  that  you  would 
never  suspect  about  them,"  he  added;  "  they 
are  delighted  with  the  action  of  the  Government 
in  prohibiting  further  Chinese  immigration  in 
this  country.  They  would  not  read  my  paper  if 
I  should  discuss  that  unjust  measure  upon  phil- 
osophical, humane,  or  political  grounds.  They 
do  not  want  any  more  of  their  countrymen  to 
come.  They  are  making  money  and  monopolize 
the  laundry  business,  and  newcomers  would  cut 
into  their  profits." 

Mr.  Wong,  while  arranging  his  office  affairs  in 
order  to  go  out,  produced  a  counting  machine, 
such  as  one  sees  wherever  a  Chinaman  is  set  up 
in  business.  It  differs  from  the  abacus,  once 
used  in  American  primary  schools,  in  that  the 
frame  is  divided  by  a  wooden  crosspiece.  On 
each  wire  there  are  five  buttons  above  and  five 
below  the  crosspiece.  Below  the  crosspiece  the 
wires  represent  units,  tens,  hundreds,  thousands, 
tens  of  thousands,  etc.  Above  the  crosspiece 
the  strings  of  buttons  represent  58,  10s,  lOOs, 
1,000h,  etc.  There  are  five  buttons  on  each  half 
of  each  wire.  The  manner  in  which  the  swan 
puu,  as  they  call  it,  is  used  is  very  simple.  To 
count  i  and  1,  they  put  up  four  beads  on  the  first 
wire  below  the  crosspiece,  and  then  the  remain- 
ing one  bead  on  the  same  wire  above  the  cross- 
piece;  but  to  count  8,  they  put  one  of  the  5s  on 
the  upper  wire  down  to  the  crosspiece  and  push 
up  three  ot  the  Is.  To  count  11,  tuey  push  down 
one  of  the  lOs  on  the  second  wire  and  push  up 
one  of  the  Is  on  the  first  wire.  Mr.  Wong  under- 
stands our  methods  ot  calculation  thoroughly, 
but  can  calculate  more  quickly  with  the  swan 
pun  than  with  a  pencil  and  paper.  The  reporter, 
who  is  rather  quick  at  figures,  was  unable  to  add 
or  subtract  sums  of  three  or  four  figures  as 
quickly  on  paper  as  the  Chinaman  did  the  same 
sums  with  the  beads.  Mr.  Wong  says  that  edu- 
cated Chinamen  are  able  to  perform  calculations 
in  algebra  on  the  upper  set  of  beads. 

In  Mott  Street  ho  explained  that  the  red  and 
yellow  papers  pasted  on  some  of  the  walls  are 
advertisements  similar  to  the  "help  wanted" 
and  "situations  wanted"  notices  in  American 
papers.  The  street  signs  simply  bear  the  names 
of  the  storekeepers,  or  members  of  partnership 
firms.  He  took  the  reporter  in  a  store,  and  the 
instant  ho  entered  there  arose  a  cackling  not  un- 
like that  which  would  follow  the  arrival  of  a 
sudden  addition  to  a  flock  of  ducks.  It  came 
from  the  mouths  of  two  or  three  Chinamen  on  | 
stools  between  the  counters  and  two  or  three  i 
men  lolling  across  the  counters.  Mr.  Wong 
pulled  out  a  stool  and  bade  the  reporter  sit  down, 
saying  that  it  was  not  the  lashion  in  Chiua  for  a 
man  to  introduce  a  companion  to  whatever 
friends  of  his  they  chance  to  meet.  Presently 
the  talking  ceased,  the  men  on  the  stools  humped 
themselves  up  with  their  knees  and  chins  closer 
together  than  if  they  were  shoemakers  hard  at 
work,  and  one  fell  to' smoking  a  pipe  with  a  stem 
half  AS  thick  as  a  lamp-post,  another  closed  his 
eyes  and  dreamed,  a  tuird  stared  at  the  report- 
er, and  one  of  the  men  behind  the  counter  strug- 
gled with  a  pair  of  scales  consisting  of  a  piece  of 
wood  like  a  walking  stick,  with  a  tray  at  one  end, 
a  weight  dangling  at  the  other  end,  and  three 
loops  above  the  stick.  Mr.  Wong  explained  that 
to  weigh  light  things  yon  hold  the  loop  nearest 
the  tray;  to  weigh  middling  heavy  things  you 


hold  the  middle  loop,  and  to  weigh  very  heavy 
things  you  hold  the  third  loop,  which  is  in  the 
middle  of  the  stick.  He  said  the  man  was 
weighing  drugs.  He  added  that  the  rows  upon 
rows  of  box-hke  drawers  on  one  side  of  the  store 
were  all  full  of  drugs. 

"  We  don't  believe  in  American  doctors  or 
American  drugs,"  said  he;  "  we  bring  our  own 
with  us.  There's  a  doctor  in  this  store  and  a 
doctor  across  the  way  in  Tom  Lee's,  and  there 
are  very  many  more.  They  do  not  have  diplo- 
mas, as  your  doctors  do.  Experience  is  the  only 
diploma  a  doctor  gets  in  China." 

He  showed  the  reporter  what  the  store  con- 
tained—piles of  bags  of  rice  from  China,  a  bar- 
rel of  ginger  root,  two  barrels  of  fishes  as  big  as 
the  average  flounder  packed  in  oil  in  an  inner 
barrel  of  zinc  like  sardines,  barrels  of  strange 
nuts,  barrels  of  dried  fish,  dried  eels,  and  very 
fat  and  wholesome-looking  dried  and  pressed 
ducks,  boxes  of  American  soap,  bottles  of  Chi- 
nese wine  and  brandy  protected  by  woven  straw 
like  Florence  flasks,  a  barrel  of  dried  mush- 
rooms, dried  eels,  packages  of  beautiful  blue 
silk  Chmese  shoes  and  of  common  white  cloth 
shoes  of  the  same  shape,  bundles  of  tlje  curious 
frocks  the  Chineso  wear,  stacks  of  delicate  tea 
cups,  teapots,  wine  flasks,  funny  brass  lamps, 
and  a  pile  of  counting  machines.  Everything 
was  marked  with  Chinese  letters — even  a  box  of 
American  matches  was  covered  with  them.  The 
storekeeper's  book,  inkpot,  and  sharpened  writ- 
ing stick  were  at  his  elbow.  In  each  of  the  wall 
cases  was  a  square  card  covered  with  letters, 
telling  the  cost  and  selling  price  of  everything  in 
that  case.  The  Chinese  have  no  numerals.  Tne 
reporter  saw  a  barrel  of  chunky  bamboo  eticKs 
two  feet  long.  Mr.  Wong  hesitated,  and  thun 
said  they  were  to  smoke  tobacco  in.  Four  Cni- 
namen,  one  after  the  other,  then  eagerly  repeat- 
ed the  word  "t'backy."  The  reporter  thought, 
from  the  appearance  of  the  sticks  and  the  man- 
ner of  the  Chinamen,  that  they  were  for  opium 
pipes. 

Mr.  Wong  took  the  reporter  up-stairs  to  an- 
other store,  in  what  was  once  the  iVont  parlor  of 
a  Sixth  ward  mansion.  It  was  apparently  a 
drinking,  or  perhaps  what  the  Germans  wo'uld 
call  a  delicatessen  store.  There  were  queer  bat- 
tles and  jars  on  the  shelves,  and  barrels  of  ums 
under  the  counter.  From  behind  the  sluling 
doors  separating  the  store  from  the  back  parlor 
came  the  rattle  of  ivory  aud  the  excited  voices  of 
gamblers.  The  storekeeper's  face  looked  a  little 
like  the  visage  of  a  pious  monk,  and  a  little  like 
the  chubby  countenance  of  a  baby.  There  was 
a  holy  plaKie  opposite  the  door,  and  the  picture 
of  the  well-feu  and  terrible-eyed  Owen  Goon 
was  accompanied  by  those  of  his  ferocious  negi'o 
sword  bearer,  the  first  darkey  ever  seen  in  China, 
and  his  effeminate,  wax-like  private  secretary. 
There  were  no  tapers  in  front  of  the  picture,  but 
the  baby-faced  proprietor  had  thousands  of  punk 
joss  sticks  for  sale,  and  a  number  ot  tiny  hand- 
painted  candles  as  well. 

"There,"  said  Mr.  Wong,  pointing  to  three 
broad  bannerets  of  light  red  and  light  blue,  with 
Chinese  characters  painted  on  them  in  a  single 
column,  "  those  in  China  take  the  place  of  the 
pictures  you  Americans  are  so  fond  of  display- 
ing in  your  houses.  Pictures  take  a  back  place 
when  a  family  is  able  to  procure  such  things  as 
those.  Fine  lettering  is  held  in  almost  the  high- 
est esteem,  and  men  who  can  paint  Chinese  let- 
ters beautifully  are  able  to  earn  splendid  wages. 
There  is  a  story  of  one  who,  becoming  bankrupt, 
pawned  one  painting  of  a  few  letters  for  $2,000. 
Those  letters  spell  something,  but  that  doesn't 
matter.     It's  tne  beauty  ot  the  letters  that  is 

firized— not  the  sentiment.  That  one  you're 
ooking  at  reads,  '  The  beautiful  birds  in  their 
glory,  resembhng  the  fishes  and  all  their  kind 
m  the  sea.'  That  big  black  letter  on  that  red 
paper  pasted  on  the  wall  reads,  '  Prosperity.' 
That  picture  near  the  holy  place  is  the  portrait 
of  tlie  God  of  Good  Fortune.  Let's  go  some 
other  place." 

Sounds  of  revelry  and  the  flat,  rank  smell  of 
opium  smoke  came  up  from  the  cellars  that  were 
passed.  The  next  store  visited  was  peculiar 
only  because  it  contained,  in  addition  to  gro- 
ceries, hundreds  of  tawny,  yellow-covered  pam- 
phlets. Mr.  Wong  said  they  were  almanacs. 
Perceiving  that  they  contained  long  chapters  of 
solid  type,  the  reporter  asked: 
"  What  kind  of  almanacs  ?  " 
"  To  tell  lucky  and  unlucky  days,  and  such 
things,"  said  Mr.  Wong. 

'They  were  dream  books,  the  natural  outgrowth 
of  a  society  so  steeped  in  gambling  as  that  is. 
Jlr.  Wong  looked  at  others,  and  pronounced 
them  drug  or  prescription  books.  The  store 
contained  a  large  stock  of  drugs.  The  reporter 
wanted  to  buy  some  slippers,  consisting  of  leather 


THE   GRKAT   EMPIRE  CITY. 


27 


solos  lined  with  red  cotton  and  straw  uppers, 
that  shone  like  eold. 

"  Let  me  do  the  buying,"  said  Mr.  Wong.  So 
*  lie  provolted  a  tumult  of  gutturals  that  resulted 
in  the  payment  of  35  cents.  "  They  would  charge 
vou  a  great  deal  more,"  ho  said. 

Tom  Loo,  who,  though  no  longer  a  deputy 
sheriff,  remain;!  a  Chrmtian,  a  Republican,  and 
a  wealthy  niau,  has  moved  his  family  into  an 
up-town  dwelling,  and  has  established  a  rostau- 
laut  where  he  used  to  live,  over  his  cigar  store. 
After  the  San  Francisco  fashion,  ho  has  built  a 
balcony  out  from  the  second-story  windows, 
roofed  it  over,  and  h-mg  big  and  gorgeous  lan- 
toi-ns  from  the  roof.  Mr.  Wong  led  the  reporter 
up  a  pair  of  ladder-like  stairs,  such  as  Caucas- 
iaiis  mount  into  their  garrets  by,  into  a  big,  dirty, 
liot  room.  A  few  pine  tables  and  rough  chairs 
and  stools  stood  about,  and  through  an  open 
door  were  seen  I)lue-blou8od  Celestials  pottering 
with  kettles,  chopping  blocks,  and  Hour,  and 
diiucing  attendance  upon  a  great  range,  over 
which  was  suspended  a  huge,  smoke-becrimmed, 
inverted  iron  funnel,  evidently  designed  to  carry 
off  the  smells  that,  nevertheless,  filled  the  next 
room.  Mr.  Wong  had  what  appeared  to  be  a 
violent  altercation  with  the  menials  in  the  kitchen, 
though  it  proved  that  he  was  merely  eiplaiuing 
that  he  wanted  a  dinner  for  himself  and  the  re- 
porter. 

The  dinner  began  with  a  plate  of  poanut  candy, 
icod  fruit  cake,  a  plate  of  biscuits  stuffed  with 
baked  nuts,  and  some  very  delicious  tea — the 
leaves  being  put  in  the  cups  and  the  tea  being 
brewed  by  pouring  hot  water  on  the  leaves  and 
fitting  saucers  over  the  cups.  Chop  sticks,  which 
are  merely  ebony  sticks  twice  as  long  and  half 
as  thick  again  as  lead  pencils,  were  scived  in 
place  of  knives  and  forks.  They  are  very  easily 
iiiiinagcd,  and  with  a  cbina  scoop,  such  as  the 
Cliinamen  use  in  place  of  a  spoon,  and  chopped 
food,  which  is  tlio  rule,  a  Caucasian  can  eat  as 
rapidly  and  easily  with  them  as  with  a  knife  and 
fork.  Three  dishes,  that  seemed  to  be  as  many 
varieties  ot  Irish  stew,  were  next  brought  on. 
One  stew  was  principally  made  up  of  beef,  young 
bamboo,  potatoes,  and  bay  leaves;  another  ap- 
peared to  be  chicken,  mushrooms,  and  boiled 
onions.  The  third  had  boiled  duck  and  rock 
moss  for  its  principal  constituents.  The  duck 
and  chicken  had  been  chopped  up,  skin,  bones, 
and  all,  and  each  of  the  stews  floated  in  very 
rich  and  greasy  gravy.  Next  came  a  dish  of 
boiled  flsh,  chopped  "up,  skin,  bones,  and  all, 
and  mixed  with  pickled  onions. 

The  grease,  the  rich  pastry,  the  candy,  and 
thi!  nuts  led  the  reporter  to  suspect  that  he  had 
discovered  why  drugs  in  great  quantities  are  dis- 
played in  all  the  stores. 

"  Do  the  Chinese  ever  have  dyspepsia?  " 

"  All  of  them  do,"'  said  Mr.  Wong. 

AVine  of  a  thousand  fruits  was  served  in  tea- 
cups aa  small  as  egg-shells,  out  of  a  beautiful 
bric-a-brac  flask.  It  was  stronger  than  Roose- 
velt Street  whiskey,  and  seemed  to  ignite  on  its 
way  down  the  throat.  The  first  cup  of  tea  was 
too  strong,  the  second  brewing  was  too  strong, 
the  third  was  strong,  the  fourth  was  just  right, 
and  the  seventh  was  pleasant.  Nothing  more 
was  brought  to  the  table,  but  in  the  four  bowls 
was  food  for  twenty  persons.  A  saucer  of  sooy 
— a  condiment,  like  Worcestershire  sauce,  but 
very  salt— was  recommended  as  an  aid  to  diges- 
tion, and  a  curious  pickle  of  dried  fruits,  spices, 
peopers,  and  vinegar  appeared  with  the  fish. 

Other  Chinamen  sat  at  the  other  tables  and  ate 
in  silence.  Mr.  Wong  said  that  it  is  a  rule  that 
those  who  dine  must  not  jest,  curse,  or,  in  fact, 
talk  much  at  all,  until  the  close  of  the  meal. 
Chinamen  who  can  afford  it  spend  four  or  five 
hours  at  the  table.  After  meals  they  partake  of 
strong  drink,  and  accompany  it  by  a  singular 
pastime.  One  diner  shouts  to  his  vis-a-vis  any 
number  that  occurs  to  him,  at  the  same  instant 
holding  up  a  number  of  fingers,  the  number  of 
fingers  differing  from  the  number  spoken.  For 
instance,  he  calls  out  "six"  and  holds  up  three 
fingers.  The  other  man  at  the  same  instant  goes 
through  the  same  formula,  holding  up  a  chance 
number  of  fingers,  and  calling  out  whatever 
number  under  ten  occurs  to  him.  K  either  has 
happened  to  name  the  sum  of  the  two  sets  of 
fingers  thus  held  up  he  loses,  and  pays  for  the 
other  one's  drink.  Thus,  if  he  calls  ten  and 
holds  up  two  fingers,  and  the  other  calls  five  and 
•exhibits  three  fingers,  the  second  man  wins,  and 
the  first  one  drinks  at  his  expense.  Both  must 
speak  at  once,  however,  an  instant  before  the 
fingers  are  shown.  Mr.  Wong  declares  that 
there  is  in  this  game  the  very  essence  of  friend- 
ship. 

In  Tom  Lee's  other  store,  after  the  dinner,  the 
reporter  saw  tea  costing  various  prices  between 
eighty  cents  and  $7  a  pound,  and  put  up  in  all 


sorts  of  gorgeous  packages.  There  were  also 
Chinese  banjos  and  fiddles  hung  in  the  show 
cases,  and  strings  of  Chinese  coins,  boxes  of 
delicate  scales  for  weighing  gold,  stores  of  moss 
and  bamboo  for  Mott  Street  tables,  and  rice, 
ginger,  and  all  the  other  Chinese  edibles  noted 
in  the  other  stores  were  heaped  upon  the  floor 
and  on  the  shelves.  Mr.  Wong  pointed  out 
some  curious  little  white  brushes  suspended  be- 
tween and  attached  to  two  thin  blades  of  whale- 
bone. He  said  they  wore  tooth  brushes  and 
mouth  washers,  and  added  tliat  every  China- 
man, every  morning  before  he  eats  or  speaks  to 
anybody,  brushes  his  teeth,  rinses  his  mouth, 
and  then  with  the  whalebones  scrapes  his  tongue 
clean.  Mr.  Wong  said  that  his  fellow  country- 
men are  also  especially  particular  with  their 
feet,  and  wash  them  every  night  before  retiring. 
"  Mott  Street  is  a  wicked  place,"  said  Mr. 
Wong,  in  bidding  his  guest  good-by.  "  It  is  the 
headquarters  of  the  Chinese,  and  they  flock  to  it 
whenever  they  get  a  chance;  but  when  they  come 
to  it  they  are  met  bv  a  band  of  gamblers,  and 
even  worse  people,  who  cause  them  to  part  with 
all  their  savings  in  no  time.  There  is  no  use 
appointing  a  Chinese  policeman,  as  has  been 
proposed.  No  Chinaman  would  take  the  post, 
and  if  one  should,  he  would  be  killed,  so  jealous 
would  the  others  be.  But  there  really  ought  to 
be  in  Mott  Street  some  Chinaman  secretly  paid 
to  help  the  police  in  ridding  the  colony  of  those 
who  prey  upon  it." 

PEOPLE  WHO  LIVE  BY  THEIR  WITS. 


There  isn't  a  city  in  the  world  more  densely 
infested  with  the  social  parasites  called"  card 
fortune  tellers  "  than  New  York. 

Their  style,  their  names,  residences  and  char- 
acteristics generally  have  changed  since  poor 
Doesticks  wrote  his  "  Witches,"  but  they  exist 
in  suflicient  quantities  to  fleece  the  rural  and  the 
unwary  generally,  to  trade  upon  the  weak  spots 
in  human  nature,  which  they  have  studied  as 
cloHcly  aa  Balzac,  and  to  make  for  themselves  a 
very  decent  living. 

Take  up  a  morning  paper,  the  Herald  espe- 
cially. Under  the  heads  of  "Astrology"  and 
"  Fortune  Telling  "  j'ou  will  find  scores  of  ad- 
vertisements, in  which  the  advertisers  profess 
to  cast  your  horoscope,  to  show  you  your  future 
wife  or  husband,  and  all  for  "the  remarkably 
cheap  sum  of  fifty  cents,  ladies  a  quarter. 

I  could  never  understand  the  economical  dis- 
tinction made  in  favor  of  the  ladies.  It  is  prob- 
ably based  on  the  fact  that  they  believe  a  great 
deal  more  readily  than  the  others,  and  that  they 
are  more  frequent  customers. 

I  am  sure  tnat  if  I  didn't  like  the  first  twenty- 
five  cent  fortune  told  me  I  would  go  again  and 
to  another  shop.  By  perseverance  and  a  liberal 
outlay  of  quarters  it  is  possible  to  strike  a 
"  hummer." 

It  seems  strange  that  these  men  and  women 
should  flourish  in  an  age  so  enUghtened  as  this 
and  in  a  city  which  possesses  the  focussed  civ- 
ilization of  the  day,  but  it  is  true.  I  know  per- 
sonally one  woman  and  one  man  who  do  nothing 
else  for  a  living,  and  who  have  confided  in  me 
that  customers  are  never  scarce.  But  what  is 
the  use  of  speculating  on  such  idiosyncrasies  of 
fifty  and  twenty-five  cent  shrimps  when  a  gilded 
whale  like  Commodore  Vanderbilt  frequently  ran 
his  business  on  the  predictions  of  soothsayers, 
and  was  altogether  as  superstitious  as  a  sailor. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  the  lower  class  ol  for- 
tune tellers — those  who  still  stick  to  Egyptian 
mummery  and  come  the  red  curtain  and"  black 
velvet  gown  over  you,  and  the  other,  more  mod- 
ern, whose  office  is  very  little  different  from  that 
of  a  real  estate  firm,  and  who  go  about  the  busi- 
ness in  a  cold-blooded  manner.  Both  styles  take. 
The  hysterical  women  and  servant  girls  gener- 
ally prefer  the  people  with  the  strange  names 
and  the  outlandish  garb.  It  seems  more  like 
the  genuine  astrological  affair,  and  is  certainly 
more  'or  the  money. 

There  are  two  or  three  of  these  mystery  shops 
in  Bleecker  Street.  The  one  I  know  is  in  Bed- 
ford Street.  I  have  frequently  been  a  concealed 
witness  of  a  seance  there. 

If  it  wasn't  that  these  poor  wretches  actually 
believe  what  is  told  them,  that  they  are  so  dumb 
or  superstitions  that  they  cannot  see  that  the 
whole  system  is  conducted  on  the  stale  principle 
of  telling  every  card  in  the  pack  after  you  have 
become  possessed  of  Ae  knowledge  of  one — if  it 
wasn't  for  this  which  makes  taking  their  money 
a  species  of  revenge  wreaked  upon  them  for  be- 
ing so  stupid — I  could  laugh  when  I  am  behind 
the  Bedford  Street  curtains. 

But  laughter  is  impossible  in  the  face  of  genu- 
ine tears  and  the  quavcrmg  voice  in  which  the 


dead  are  asked  after.  When  it  is  a  light-headed 
girl,  who  is  anxious  about  her  future  lord,  the 
case  is  different. 

Mr.  Charles  Foster  is  at  the  head  of  all  fortune 
tellers  in  this  country.  He  charges  $5,  and  his 
Htatemenls  are  as  remarkable  and  startling,  done 
as  they  are  without  any  pretence  of  side-show 
business,  as  the  drivelliugs  of  the  Bleecker  and 
Bedford  Street  astrologers  are  puerile  and  trans- 
parent. 

I  do  not  pretend  to  speak  of  him  critically,  and 
have  introduced  him  simply  to  make  the  magic 
line  complete.  Ho  has  always  more  work  than 
he  can  attend  to,  and  is  especially  sought  after 
by  ladies.  As  many  carriages  have  halted  at 
Ins  door  as  ever  lined  the  curb  at  Grace  church, 
and  in  many  instances  the  equipages  are  the 
same.  He  gave  me  a  setting  once,  and  I  shall 
never  forget  what  he  said  to  me: 

"  You  must  remember  everything  I  say,  young 
man,  because  I  shall  be  in  a  trance,  and  will 
retain  nothing  of  what  passes  from  the  spirit 
world  to  you  through  me.'' 

Then  he  took  oft"  his  coat  for  the  day  was 
very  warm— lit  a  good  cigar,  and  began. 

What  he  told  me  doesn't  matter  now.  It  was 
nothing  to  smile  at,  I  can  assure  you.  What  I 
want  to  do  is  to  call  attention  to  the  peculiarities 
of  his  trance. 

His  cigar  happening  to  go  out  ho  lit  it  with  a 
fresh  match,  anu  then  went  on.  Some  one  rapped 
at  the  door.  He  excused  himself  and  attended 
to  the  business,  which  1  think  had  something  to 
do  with  dinner,  after  which  we  descended  into 
Hades  again.  AH  this  in  a  trancel  I  think  he 
was  still  in  the  trance  when  he  produced  a  de- 
canter and  gave  me  as  good  a  glass  of  brandy  as 
I  ever  tasted. 

I  can  understand  the  success  of  such  people, 
but  when  it  comes  to  the  shuffling  of  a  greasy 
pick  of  cards  by  the  coarse,  red,  fat  fingers  of 
an  east-side  seress,  who  ekes  out  her  financial 
requirements  by  taking  in  washing,  perhaps,  I 
am  willing  to  confess  that  I  am  puzzled;  but  as 
long  as  people  won't  sit  thii  teen  at  table,  or  un- 
dertake a  new  business  on  Fridiiy,  the  half  and 
quarter  dollars  will  continue  to  flow  into  the 
purses  of  these  operators  from  those  of  their 
dupes. 

I  could  explain  all  the  card  swindles,  spirit 
photographing  and  all  the  rest  of  the  nonsense, 
if  it  was  at  all  necessary.  It  isn't.  The  peculiar 
class  making  up  the  patrons  of  the  astrologers 
are  beyond  the  reach  of  reason.  They  have  Na- 
poleon's dream  book  in  the.r  bureau  drawers, 
and  they  are  as  much  sunk  in  superstition  of  the 
absurd  sort  as  are  the  Vaudoo  negroes  of  New 
Orleans. 

Another  source  of  revenue  for  those  who  are 
smart  enough  to  coin  money  out  of  the  super- 
natural is  the  spiritualistic  seance.  The  reader 
will  at  first  think  I  mean  shows  given  in  halls  by 
regular  professors.  Not  at  all.  The  people  to 
whom  I  refer  are  ordinary  citizens  in  the  hum- 
bler classes,  who  have  discovered  suddenly  that 
they  are  "  mediums."  As  soon  as  it  is  positive- 
ly estabhshed  that  an  Indian  maiden  in  the  spirit 
land  has  selected  them  as  a  speaking  trumpet, 
then  the  vocation  in  which  they  are  engaged  is 
dropped,  and  all  their  resources  are  turned  to- 
ward a  cabinet  show. 

I  have  been  to  many,  but  the  one  in  Grand 
Street,  run  by  a  Mrs.  Wilson,  I  think,  is  perhaps 
just  the  biggest  fraud  ot  them  all.  iou  pay 
twenty-five  cents  to  sit  on  a  hard  chair,  between 
two  long-haired  disciples,  and  you  are  expected 
to  believe  that  Mrs.  Wilson,  who  disappeared  in 
the  cabinet,  is  still  tied  to  her  chair,  and  that 
the  very  hideous-looking  gentleman,  with  the 
black  beard,  who  tells  us  through  the  opening 
in  the  door  how  he  was  drowned  in  Lake  Michi- 
gan forty  years  ago,  is  really  "  Uncle  Billy,"  and 
not  Mrs.  Wilson  with  a  mask  and  whiskers. 

If  there  is  any  movement  on  the  part  of  one  of 
the  doubters  to'get  at  Uncle  Billy,  he  is  immedi- 
ately squelched,  and  if  the  spirit  of  criticism  is 
too  active,  why  the  husband  of  the  "  medium," 
or  some  one  else,  declares  that  the  spirit*  can- 
not work  save  where  there  is  perfect  harmony. 

That  means  translated — "  we  cannot  continue 
to  impose  upon  you  unless  you  sit  perfectly  stdl 
and  believe  all  we  say." 

W'ednesday  and  Saturday  evening  these  se- 
ances flourish  all  over  the  city.  The  price  is 
generally  twenty-five  cents,  butthere  are  cheap- 
er entertainments  for  ten  cents.  An  inferior  kind 
of  angel  is  used  at  these. 

I  know  a  man  and  his  wife,  she  being  the  "  me- 
dium," who  give  cabinet  entertainments  at  the 
houses  of  the  rich,  just  as  the  "  Punch  and  Judy  " 
man  does,  and  for  that  matter  just  as  Sarah 
Bernhardt  recites  or  models  before  a  drawing- 
room  audience,  or  Nilaaon  sings,  lor  so  much  a, 
night. 


28 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


No  one  in  the  Fifth  Avenue  parlor  ia  rude 
enough  to  interfere,  the  parlor  is  alwaya  big 
enough  to  mak«  the  experiment  a  tolerably  safe 
one,  and  the  whole  affair  is  only  looked  upon  as 
an  agreeable  way  of  passing  the  time.  A 
magic  lantern  is  just  as  good. 

It  is  the  cosmopolitan  character  of  New  York 
City  which  makes  all  this  aberration,  if  I  can  so 
define  it,  possible.     We  have  every  religion  un- 

-  der  the  sun  practiced  in  Gotham.  The  Koran 
and  Veda  books  are  read  here  as  regularly  as 
in  the  Orient,  and  I  have  seen  with  my  civilized 
and  Christian  optics  the  temple  of  Joss  in  the 
Chinese    quarter  at  a    time  when  a  Chatham 

-  Square  cigar  merchant  was  at  his  prayers. 

I  am  not  particularly  acquainted  with  all  its 
ramifications,  but  the  Chinese  reUgion  contains 
the  act  of  prayer  reduced  to  a  beautiful  system. 
They  are  painted  on  tire-cracker  paper,  and  are 
Bold.by  a  man  who  makes  prayers  a  specialty. 
When  you  feel  a  little  wicked,  or  are  conscious 
of  any  sensation  which  calls  for  prayer  as  an  an- 
tidote, you  go  to  the  Joss  church  in  Baxter 
Street,  and  burn  one  or  two  of  these  slips.  Cer- 
tainly nothing  could  be  more  simple. 

The  Lascars  also  have  their  club  room  in  that 
locality,  and  observe  faithfully  their  reUgious 
devotions.  There  are  by  no  means  as  many  of 
them  in  the  city  as  there  are  Chinese,  but  there 
are  still  enough  to  make  a  colony. 

Traveling  in  Baxter  Street  takes  me  "  Five 
Points  "  out  of  my  way. 

Let  us  return.  The  most  magnificent  attempt 
ever  made  to  introduce  a  magico-religion  into 
this  peculiarly  susceptible  town  was  that  made 
by  Mme.  Blavatsky  and  Col.  Olcott. 

These  two  are  now  m  India,  riding  around  on 
elephants  and  otherwise  disporting  themselves. 
The  madame  had  elegant  apartments  np-town, 
fitted  up  with  gloomy  magnificence.  She  used 
to  hold  seances  there,  and  succeeded  so  well  in 
making  converts  to  the  religion  of  Buddha  that 
I  believe  she  was  enabled  to  form  a  regular 
.  church  or  society  previous  to  her  departure.  As 
expounded  by  Mme.  Blavatsky  there  is  some- 
thing solid  and  attractive  in  the  Buddha  faith, 
and  if  I  should  change,  it  would  be  to  become 
one  of  her  disciples. 

Do  not  be  surprised  then  if  1  should  come  down 
to  the  office  sometime,  wearing  a  black  skull-cap, 
I  and  a  chintz  night-gown  with  snakes  worked  all 
over  it. 

Why,  you  naturally  ask,  would  so  conservative 
it  man  as  our  Mr.  Fowler,  give  up  the  faith  of  his 
childhood  ? 

I'll  tell  you.  All  the  other  religions  promise 
no  felicity  of  an  absorbing  nature  until  after 
death.  If  Mme.  Blavatsky  has  been  correctly 
reported  she  has  made  a  wonderful  discovery, 
the  utilization  of  which  means  fortune  in  this 
world  in  a  very  little  while. 

The  secret  is  this — she  can  dematerialize  arti- 
cles, walk  them  to  some  objective  point,  and  then 
by  simple  exercise  of  will,  it  being  all  the  same 
whether  she  is  one  or  a  thousand  miles  away, 
8ho  can  cause  the  object  to  assume  its  original 
form  and  value. 

Mind  that,  its  value,  for  therein  lies  the  ap- 
plication. 

So  far  she  has  succeeded,  so  the  story  runs, 
with  nothing  but  kid  gloves.  That's  enough  for 
me.  Mme.  Blavatsky  is  said  to  have  sent  apair 
by  the  magic  method  from  Bombay  to  Lon- 
don. 

When  I  have  learned  to  do  this,  and  perhaps 
if  I  am  a  good  Buddhist  I  may  be  able  to  handle 
lace  and  silk  umbrellas  also,  1  will  have  no  need 
to  consult  any  of  the  fortune  tellers. 

I  will  open  a  shop  in  Paris,  and  one  in  New 
York.  By  the  use  of  my  supernatural  power  I'll 
send  enough  kid  gloves  over  hero  at  Paris  prices 
to  break  the  market;  a  sufficient  quantity  of  silk 
^umbrellas  to  enable  every  young  man  to  possess 
an  elegant  article  to  "  put  up,"  and  lace  to  that 
lextent  that  every  back  kitchen  will  have  some 
brand  floating  at  the  windows. 

In  the  meantime  the  custom  house  officials 
will  gradually  commit  suicide  one  by  one,  or  go 
to  the  asylum  for  the  hopelessly  insane. 

The  only  cloud  in  the  skv  is  that  I  don't  believe 
the  madame  can  do  anything  of  the  sort.  She 
is  a  fraud,  just  as  the  Bleecker  Street  women 
are,  the  only  difference  being  her  noble  birth, 
her  magnificent  style,  and  her  intellect. — From 
"  OUmpses  of  Gotham,"  published  by  RicTiard  K. 
Fox. 


pression  of  countenance,  a  leer  in  the  eye,  a 
drooping  of  the  corners  of  the  mouth,  or  some 
other  mark  of  a  villainous  hfe.  But  there  are 
some  exceptions.  A  face  is  found  here  and  there 
in  the  collection  which  might  be  taken  for  that  of 
a  poet  or  a  clergyman.  One  of  the  portraits,  in 
fact,  bears  a  striking  resemblance  to  that  of  Ed- 
gar Allen  Poe.  Some  of  the  photographs  of  the 
most  notorious  criminals  are  hung  near  the  door 
in  order  that  the  detectives  as  they  pass  in  and 
out  may  become  familiar  with  them  and  be  able 
to  pick  out  the  faces  in  a  crowd. 

"Each  photograph  has  a  history  attached  to 
it,"  said  Inspector  Byrnes.  "The  age  of  the 
criminal  is  given,  his  height,  color  of  eyes,  hair 
and  beard,  and  the  class  of  crime  he  "has  en- 
gaged in  so  far  as  has  become  known  to  the  po- 
lice. An  exaimnation  is  made  also  for  birth- 
marks or  scars  on  his  body." 

"  Are  pictures  taken  only  of  criminals  whoUve 
in  this  city?" 

"  When  we  hear  of  a  noted  thief  or  forger  in 
any  part  of  the  country  we  send  for  his  photo- 
graph in  order  that  we  may  know  him,  should 
he  come  to  New  York,  and  be  able  to  keep  an 
eye  out  for  him.  Frequently  by  this  means  men 
are  caught  by  our  detectives  who  have  escaped 
the  vigilance  of  the  police  in  the  places  where 
they  have  committed  crime." 

"  Is  the  photograph  of  every  thief  who  falls 
into  your  hands  taken  ?  " 

"  No,  the  gallery  includes  only  the  photo- 
graphs of  professionals." 


NEW  YORK'S  SOaUES'  GALLERY. 


The  photographs  in  the  Kogues'  Gallery  at  the 
Police  Central  Office  possess  a  psychological  in- 
terest. Usually  the  face  of  the  rogue  is  an  in- 
dex to  his  character,  there  being  a  sinister  ex- 


THE  THEATRES  AND   THE   THEATRICAL 
PROFESSION. 

NewYobkIs  the  headmiarters  of  the  theatrical 
profession  in  the  United  States.  The  inhabitants 
of  Gotham  are  lavish  in  their  patronage  of  music 
and  the  drama,  and  places  of  amusement  are 
numbered  by  the  score.  All  the  leading  travel- 
ing combinations  are  made  up  here,  and,  in 
order  to  meet  with  favor  in  other  cities  and 
towns,  a  play  must  first  have  been  a  success  in 
New  York.  The  stereotyped  phrase,  "The 
Great  New  York  Success,"  will  be  found  upon 
nearly  every  play-bill  displayed  in  other  cities. 

The  leading  "  stock  "  theatres  of  New  York  are 
the  Madison  Square,  Union  Square,  Wallack's 
and  Daly's.  Each  of  these  employs  a  regular 
company  of  first-class  artists,  and  during  the 
dramatic  season  they  produce  many  original 
plays,  or  those  specially  secured  Irom  foreign 
authors.  The  Union  Square  has  been  particu- 
larly fortunate  in  the  production  of  successful 
plays,  and  is  a  favorite  resort  of  play-goers.  Its 
first  great  success  was  Boucicanlts  " Led  As- 
tray, which  attained  a  run  unprecedented  at  that 
time,  and  was  followed  by  "  The  Two  Orphans," 
"  Rose  Michel,"  "  A  Celebrated  Case,"  "  The 
Danicheffs,"  "  Daniel  Kochat,""Tho  Banker's 
Daughter,"  "The  Lights  o'  London,"  and 
others.  The  Madison  Square  is  one  of  the  most 
fashionable  of  modern  theatres.  Ita  first  pro- 
duction, that  of  "  Hazel  Kirke,"  which  was 
played  consecutively  for  more  than  a  year,  was 
a  phenomenal  success,  and  "  The  Professor," 
"Esmeralda"  and  "Young  Mrs.  Winthrop" 
met  with  almost  as  much  favor.  Wallack's,  for 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  has  been  known  as  the 
homo  of  refined  comedy  in  New  York,  and  the 
new  up-towu  play-house  of  Mr.  Wallack  is  one  of 
the  most  elegant  in  the  city. 

Of  other  theatres,  the  Standard,  Bijou  Opera 
House  and  Metropolitan  Casino  are  devoted 
mainly  to  the  production  of  the  new  comic 
operas,  which  all  at  once  rose  to  enormous  popu- 
larity. At  Booth's  most  of  the  Shakespearean 
revivals  have  been  given,  but  this  house,  after 
many  years  struggle  against  adversity,  has  at 
length  "been  demolished.  Haverly's,  the  Fifth 
Avenue,  the  Grand  Opera  House  and  the  Wind- 
sor are  what  is  known  as  "  Star  "  theatres — that 
18,  they  employ  combinations  with  the  leading 
actors  representing  the  same  and  not  regular 
companies.  At  the  Academy  of  Music  and  Ab- 
bey's new  Opera  House  the  Italian  operas  are 
given.  Tony  Pastor's,  Harrigau  and  Hart's  and 
Harrv  Miner's  are  the  leading  variety  theatres, 
and  of  these  there  are  many  lesser  lights. 

Union  Square  is  a  favorite  rendezvous  of  New 
York  actors,  and  upon  the  pavements  here,  like- 
wise m  the  various  cafes  and  saloons  in  the 
vicinity,  scores  of  actors  may  be  seen  upon  any 
pleasant  afternoon  dunng  the  theatrical  season. 
The  Thespians  lead  a  life  of  pleasure,  and  have 
their  vices,  yet  no  class  of  our  population  are 
more  generous  or  ready  to  help  those  in  adversi- 
ty. With  some  few  exceptions,  actors  are  not 
recognized  in  New  York  society,  but  they  lead  a 
happy  and  careless  life  among  themselves,  and 


apparently  care  nothing,  beyond  an  appreciation 
of  their  art,  for  the  pubhc  in  general  and  society 
in  particular. 

Booth  is  the  favorite  tragedian,  by  virtue  of  his 
Ttonderful  talents,  and  Barrett  and  McCullough 
are  likewise  well  patronized.  Lester  Wallack, 
the  Florences,  Robaon  and  Crane,  Dion  Bouci- 
cault  and  John  E.  Owens  are  the  most  popular 
comedians,  while  Lillian  Russell  and  Catherine 
Lewis  are  the  favorite  representatives  of  light 
opera.  Clara  Morris  is  the  best  emotional  ac- 
tress that  New  York  has  ever  seen,  but  being  in 
poor  health,  she  rarely  appears  now.  Miss  Mary 
Anderson  is  a  great  favorite  in  her  particular 
line,  though  not  more  so  in  New  York  probably 
than  elsewhere.  A  g»od  actor  or  actress  can 
command  from  $200  to  $500  per  week.  At  those 
theatres  m  New  York  where  stock  companies  are 
maintained,  the  leading  man  and  leading  lady 
usually  receive  about  $200  per  week  each;  sub- 
ordinates are  paid  from  $60  to  a  $100,  and  even 
those  who  assume  the  minor  characters,  draw 
salaries  of  $25  to  $50.  Adelina  Patti,  during  her 
last  visit  to  America,  received  the  enormous 
salary  of  $5,000  for  every  performance,  yet  so 
g^eat  is  the  desire  to  see  and  hear  this  celebrated 
vocalist,  her  manager  made  money  upon  the 
speculation.  Edwin  Booth's  terms  are  $500  per 
night,  and  first-class  actors,  no  matter  in  what 
particular  line,  are  invariably  well  paid.  Alto- 
gether the  Thespians  have  no  reason  to  complain 
of  their  success  financially,  yet  few  die  rich,  for 
their  money  is  usually  spent  lavishly.  Among 
the  most  well-to-do  are  John  E.  Owens,  who 
owns  a  large  plantation  in  the  South,  and  is  said 
to  be  the  richest  actoi  in  America,  Joseph  Jeffer- 
son and  Wilham  J.  Florence.  These  men  are  all 
moderately  rich.  E.  A.  Sothem  left  a  substan- 
tial fortune,  but  our  actors,  like  our  Presidents, 
as  a  rule  die  poor.  Mrs.  Langtry  is  said  to  have 
$100,000  in  bank,  the  net  proceeds  of  her  visit  to 
America,  which  would  indicate  that  the  Jersey 
Lily  believes  in  laying  up  for  a  rainy  day.  Her 
popularity,  however,  is  waning,  and  it  is  doubt- 
ful il  another  season  would  yield  like  results. 


NEW  YORE  TENEMENT  HOUSES. 


The  sanitary  inspection  of  the  overcrowded 
tenement  houses,  says  a  New  York  letter,  is  di«- 
closing  a  condition  of  things  that  may  well  mak& 
even  a  New  Yorker,  familiar  as  he  may  be  with 
those  human  hives,  stand  aghast,  and  ask.  Are 
we  not  after  all  but  half  civilized  ?  For  instance, 
one  honse  in  Mulberry  Street  is  reported  as  con- 
taming  171  occupants,  thirty-six  of  whom  are 
children;  in  many  of  the  rooms  persons  were 
found  stretched  oiit  on  the  floor,  without  bed  or 
bedding.  These  were  for  the  most  part  Italians. 
Another  Mulberry  Street  rookery  contains  112 
apartments,  occupied  by  122  persons:  a  third, 
fifty-eight  apartments,  occupied  by  112  persons; 
a  iourth  has  thirty-eight  rooms,  occupied  by  130 
persons;  a  fifth,  thirty-eight  rooms,  occupied  by- 
eighty  persons,  and  in  the  rear,  hedged  in  from 
light  and  air,  is  a  rear  building  occupied  by 
forty-seven  persons.  Down  in  Cherry  and  Water  ^ 
Streets  there  are  some  tenements  under  the  roof 
of  which  may  be  found  representatives  of  almost 
all  the  nationalities  of  Christendom,  and  some 
outsideof  Christendom— Chinese,  Italians,  Span- 
iards, French,  Portuguese,  Scandinavians,  Irish, 
Germans,  and  here  and  there  an  Afncan.  In 
Baxter  Street  there  are  places  where  more  than 
300  of  the  people  are  huddled  together,  in  utter 
defiance  of  the  laws  of  health.  The  inspectors 
appear  to  think  it  a  miracle  that  a  pestilence  has 
not  broken  out  in  these  dens  long  before  this, 
and  as  for  trying  to  improve  their  condition,  the 
thing,  we  are  told,  would  seem  to  be  out  of  the 
question.  The  only  remedy  is  to  stop  building 
houses  of  this  description,  and  this  can  only  bo 
accomphshed  by  stringent  legislation,  to  which, 
of  course,  the  owners  of  all  such  property  are 
resolutely  opposed.  The  pubhc  health  in  such 
cases,  however,  should  be  superior  to  all  consid- 
erations of  personal  or  private  interest. 


The  city  of  New  York  contains  425  churches 
The  cost  of  some  of  them  is  over  $1,000,000.  If 
their  average  cost  is  but  $50,000  each,  the  total 
cost  is  $21,250,000.  If  the  sittings  average  50O 
each,  the  total  number  of  persons  who  can  bo 
accommodated  is  250,000. 


Asioso  the  New  York  lawyers  it  is  said  that 
David  Dudley  Field's  income  is  $375,000;  Samuel 
G.  Courtney's,  $200,000;  Brown,  Hall  &  Vander- 
pool's,  $225,000:  E.  W.  Stoughton's,  $200,000;  and 
Wm.  M.  Evarts's,  $1.50,000. 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


29 


STREET  CHABACTEBS. 

This  great  city  of  New  York  in  a  worlil  in  it- 
ifU.  It  embracoB  witliiii  its  broad  boundarieB 
loarly  every  phase  of  life  known  among  civi- 
ized  men.  Upon  its  streets  one  may  see  reprc- 
/3uted  almost  every  nationality  and  every  kind 


>imimimii:!i:!iiipmBwii;iii:iiiiii!'!iilii!ilillIl| 


SWEET  OKANOE  CART. 

of  business.  The  Jew  elbows  the  German,  the 
Prussian  jostles  the  Pole,  the  Irishman  fights 
^vith  the  Negro,  the  Englishman  treads  on 
Brother  Jonathan's  toes,  the  Frenchman  nudges 
the  Swede,  the  Italian  sings  with  the  Swiss,  etc. 
Broadway  npon  any  day  is  a  stndy,  and  all  the 
other  streets  furnish  curious  scenes. 

THE   S\S'EET   OBANGE   CABTS. 

One  of  the  most  picturesque  scenes  at  night  is 
the  orange  stands  at  the  street  corners.  Some- 
times these  are  simply  tables  set  upon  the  edge 
of  the  sidewalk,  ov  just  ofif  it  in  the  street. 
More  frequently  they  are  four-wheeled  carts, 
which  are  loaded  at  the  Fulton  or  the  Washing- 
ton markets  early  in  the  morning  and  hauled  to 
their  respective  positions  before  the  tide  of 
people  begins  to  move  towards  the  stores  and 
shops.  In  the  evening  these  carts  are  lighted 
by  alcohol  lamps,  as  you  see  in  the  picture,  and 
are  attended  by  a  man  or  a  woman — sometimes 
by  both,  who,  in  time  of  oranges,  shout  at  the 
top  of  their  voices,  "Here's  your  nice  sweet 
oranges,  eight  for  a  quarter,"  or  some  other 
rate,  depending  upon  the  supply. 

THE  OLD   HAT  MAN. 

I  often  saunter  down  Broadway  in  the  fresh 
ynorning,  keeping,  these  hot  days,  on  the  shady 
side,  and  I  rarely  fail  to  meet  the  "  old  hat 
man "  the  artist  has  given  us  in  the  picture. 
Usually  he  has  an  old,  uncouth  hat  on  his  head, 
set  there  as  jauntilv  as  if  he  were  a  boy  of  six- 
teen years.  But  tins  old  fellow  is  never  seen 
twice" with  the  same  hat  on,  and  he  has  from  two 
to  half  a  score  of  all  sorts  slung  over  his 
shoulder,  or  carries  three  or  four  in  one  hand, 
holding  on  to  the  rim  of  each.  He  starts  out 
early  in  the  morning;  be  visits  the  offices  and 
stores  soon  after  they  are  opened,  and  finds  the 
dapper  young  clerk  reading  the  morning  papers. 
They  are  in  good  humor.  Along  comes  the  old 
hat  man,  who  bawls  out  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
"Any  auld  bats?  Auld  hats!  Hats!"  Some- 
Hmes  he  deals  in  boots  also.  A  young  clerk, 
who  has  a  new  style  of  hat  on  his  head,  and 
an  old  style  stored  ou  a  shelf,  calls  him 
in,  produces  the  old  style,  and  begins  to  chaff 
the  old  man,  who  is  ready  with  cute  answers 
and  for  a  bargain.  And  as  he  goes  out  of  the 
door  he  sends  back  a  shaft  of  humor  that  turns 
the  laugh  upon  his  customer.  Up  the  street  he 
goes  crying,  "  Auld  hats!  Any  auld  h-a-t-s  ?  " 


THE  OLD  BOOK-WOBU. 

I  like  to  lounge  about  the  "  old  book  "  stores 
on  Beeknian,  Nassau,  and  Fulton  Streets. 
There  are  a  great  many  curiouH  things  found 
there.  I  sat,  one  day,  looking  and  thinking  of 
these  wonderful  liistXjrieH,  when  my  attention 
was  arrested  by  the  old  book-worm  you  see  in 
the  illustration— books  under  his  arm,  in  hi« 
hand,  and  manuscript  in  his  pocket.  The  hot 
sun  beat  down  npon  his  green  umbrella  as  ho 
leaned  against  the  sidewalK  stand  on  which  tho 
books  were  arranged.  The  throng  of  people  of 
ill  sorts  rushed  past  him,  but  he  did  not  heed 
them,  nor  they  him. 

THE   ITALIAN   I>L\OE  VENDEH. 

"Faith,  an'  he's  a  hiv  of  a  bishop,  pace  be  to 
his  sowl!  "  I  turned  to  see  whence  this  bene- 
diction came,  and  saw  an  image  vender  laden 
with  his  wares  presenting  the  image  of  a  bishop 
to  the  Bridget  you  see  in  the  picture.  Cute 
fellows  are  these  imago  venders.  They  study 
your  eyes  while  you  study  their  handiwork. 

THE   BAQ   PICKER   AT    HIS   TRADE. 

Of  all  the  wandering  lives  lived  in  this  gi'eat 
city,  that  of  the  rag  picker  seems  to  possess 
least  attraction.  The  rag  pickers  are  very 
numerous.  They  are  seen  at  all  hours  of  tho 
day  in  some  localities,  but  follow  their  calling 
most  eagerly  in  the  early  morning,  and  thence 
on  until  noon.  Sometimes  it  is  an  old  man,  as 
you  see  in  tho  picture.  An  old  bag  slung  across 
the  shoulder,  and  a  little  hand  basket  carried  by 
the  side,  with  sometimes  an  iron  poker,  crooked 
at  one  end,  comprise  his  implements  of  trade. 
Every  half-burned  bit  ot  coal  is  carefully  put  in- 
to the  basket,  while  the  bag  receives  each  piece 
of  cloth  or  paper.  It  is  dirty  work;  but  the  bas- 
ket of  coals  will  warm  the  rag  picker's  cold  room, 
and  the  bag  of  "  paper  rags^'  will  sell  for  a  few 
pennies  to  buy  bread;  and  so  the  worker  patient- 
ly toils  on. 

THE  YOUNG   SIDEWALK   OBCHE8TKA. 

The  youthful  musicians — wide  awake,  indus- 
trious, as  sensitive  as  mercury  to  the  condition 
of  the  social  atmosphere  in  which  they  happen 
to  place  themselves.  There  is  one  little  band 
much  like  those  you  see  in  the  engraving,  which 
has  played  at  my  dining-room  window  at  dinner 
time,  all  the  summer  long.  The  violinist  is  a 
short,  chubby,  open-faced,  black-eyed  little 
fellow.  That  fellow  leaning  against  the  fence  is 
of  entirely  a  different  type.    His  flute  is  played 


SIDEWALK    BEFBESHMEMTS. 

The  vicinity  of  City  Hall  Square  abounds  m  re- 
freshment Btands,  where  pies,  cakes,  candies, 
coffee,  colored  lemonade  and  ice  cream,  one  and 
all,  are  dealt  out  to  those  who  desire,  at  a  very 
cheap  rate.  The  old  women  who  attend  them 
often  acquire  email  fortunes.    The  cheapest  dish 


THE  OLD   HAT  1I.\N. 

with  the  greatest  care.  The  girl  playing  the 
harp  has  a  matronly,  business  air,  and  seems  to 
thumb  the  harp  strings  much  as  she  would  knit 
a  stocking.  At  the  comers  of  crowded  streets, 
at  the  entrance  of  saloons,  these  itinerant  bands 
make  music.    Their  life  is  not  an  idle  one. 


THE   OLD   BOOK   WOKJI, 

known  to  the  sidewalk  refreshment  btisiaess  is 
tho  penny  ice  cream. 

THE   LITTLE   FLOWEB   GIRL. 

Now  and  then,  in  the  great  city,  we  .get  a 
breath  of  the  sweet  pure  country  air,  so  to  speak, 
when  we  hear  a  sweet  voice  crying  "  Violets, 
sir?"  It  all  comes  back — the  old  orchard  ou 
the  hillside— and  we  turn  to  the  little  flower 
girl  with  a  grateful  heart,  glad  to  get  away  from 
the  confusion  of  this  great  Babel  and  to  be  for 
only  just  a  brief  moment  a  boy  again.  So  we 
buy  a  bunch  of  the  -Nnolets,  and  in  the  pauses  be- 
tween the  cries  of  "  Violets,  sir?  "  we  learn  that 
the  flower  girl  lives  somewhere  out  in  the  sub- 
urbs. Most  of  the  flower  girls  are  Germans, 
and  drive  quite  a  thriving  trade.  Some  of  the 
flower  girls  get  their  bouquets  ready  made  at  the 
flower  stores.  These  bouquets  are  the  nicest 
seen  on  the  street.  Are  there  any  so  sweet,  be- 
cau  so  suggestive,  as  the  little  bunch  of  vio- 
lets? 

THE  rMBBELL.\.  HAN. 

You  see  him  out  in  a  terrible  storm,  when  the 
paving  and  sidewalks  seem  all  afloat.  You've 
no  idea  what  rain  and  mud  are  untd  you  set 
foot  in  a  puddle  ot  New  York  mud,  in  the  midst 
of  a  New  York  rain-storm.  You  can  observe 
"the  Umbrella  Man  "  better  on  a  pleasant  day. 
In  front  of  nearly  every  house  his  j)eculiar  cry 
rings  out,  "Parasols  to  mend?  Tjmbrellaa  to 
mend?"  It  is  a  strange,  monotonous  cry,  and 
maybe  you  fail  to  catch  the  words  at  first. 
Sometirnes  it  is  really  musical,  and  greets  the 
ear  very  pleasantly.  The  man  carries  his  kit  of 
tools  under  his  arm,  and  is  ready  for  work  at 
once.  Generally  he  carries  a  large  bundle  of 
old  ones  with  him.  We  cannot  tell  where  he 
lives,  or  how,  though  we  often  wonder,  when  we 
hear  his  lusty  voice  calling  out  so  loudly,  "  Um- 
brellas to  mend  ?  " 

THE  PEA>'rT  VENDER. 

The  pc-anut  venders  are  perhaps  the  most 
numerous  of  all  the  sidewalk  businesses.  Pea- 
nut stands  can  be  counted  by  the  score  in  all 
parts  of  the  city.  Often  a  man  and  a  woman 
attend  one  stand,  as  our  artist  has  repre- 
sented. The  man  is  often  a  cripple — either  he 
has  lost  an  arm  or  a  leg — and  can  support  him- 
self and  family  in  no  other  way.  Tne  woman 
stands  with  him,  not  eo  much  because  the  sale 
demands  her  services  also  as  to  help  him  to  and 


30 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


fro,  and  keep  him  company  through  the  long 
day.  Very  dreary  the  days  often  are;  very  cold 
an&  disagreeable.  Yet  save  in  the  severest 
storms  the  peanut  venders  are  at  their  posts. 
They  seem  very  patient.  The  stand  shown  in 
our  "engraving  is  not  so  extensive  as  many  of 
them  are,  and  more  resembles  those  devoted  to  a 
mixed  trade  made  up  of  chestnuts,  hickory  nuts, 
etc.  Moat  of  the  exclusive  peanut  dealers  have 
■a  goodly  sized  table,  divided  into  two  portions, 
one  for  the  raw  and  the  other  lor  the  baked  nuts, 
•with  a  sheet-iron  arrangenioiit  in  one  end  iu 
•which  a  spirit  lamp  or  some  charcoal  i?kept  burn- 
'  ing  under  a  cylinder  turned  by  a  crank  wherein 
the  nuts  are  baked,  and  the  whole  placed  on 
wheels.  The  trade  never  appears  lively,  yet 
some  of  the  peanut  venders  acquire  considerable 
property. 

THE  tVASDEHISG  JEW. 

Here  we  have  another  picture  from  the  sub- 
urbs. The  Jew  peddler  is  not  often  seen  upon 
the  city's  crowded  streets,  but  is  moie  often  ob- 
served plying  his  trade  in  the  country  than  any- 
•where  else.  The  one  shown  herewith,  though, 
is  of  the  old  style,  and  we  portray  him  more  as 
a  reminder  of  what  was  than  as  a  picture  of  what 
is.  He  has  shoe-strings  in  his  hand,  elastics  on 
bis  arms,  cheap  jewelry  in  his  box  and  in  his 
"pack."  The  Jews  are  truly  a  people  of  wan- 
derers. Ever  since  they  were  driven  from  Jeru- 
salem' 80  many  hundreds  of  years  ago,  they 
have  been  going  up  and  down  all  over  the  earth, 
.and  almost  always  as  tradesmen. 


THE  BANCO  SWINDLE. 

1  EXTBA.CT  the  following  admii'able  description 
•of  this  dangerous  fraud  from  my  old  friend's, 
Phil.  Farley,  able  work  on  American  criminals. 
It  bit«  the  nail  as  squarely  oil  the  head  as  I 
■could  hope  to: 

One  ot  the  most  seductive,  delusive,  and  dan- 
gerous of  the  games  by  which  the  innocent  peo- 
ple are  despoiled  of  their  money  is  the  game  of 
Banco.  It  is  the  means  by  which  a  whole  host 
of  sharpers  prey  upon  unsuspecting  visitors, 
and  it  flourishes  in  every  city  in  America, 
though  it  finds  its  rankest"  luxuriance  in  New 
York. 

Banco  is  so  simple  in  its  form,  and  so  appar- 
ently honest,  that  it  is  calculated  to  deceive  even 
the  shrewdest.  In  reality,  it  is  nothing  more  or 
less  than  the  old  English  pastime  of  "  Eight  dice 


and  who  had  become  too  well  known  at  his  old 
tricks,  adopted  the  game  and  gave  it  the  finish 
it  possesses  to-day.  He  found  it  so  remunera- 
tive that  he  bent  his  way  to  New  York  and 
opened  a  "  magazine  "  here.    He  called  his  ven- 


THE  ITALIAN  IMAGE  'N'ESDER. 

cloth."  It  was  introduced  into  this  country  about 
fhe  year  1855,  improved  upon,  and  baptized 
Banco.  California  was  the  first  place  in  which 
the  game  took  root,  and  thence  it  spread  all  over 
the  laad. 
A  eporting  man  who  traveled  the  Mississippi, 


THE  BAO  FICEEB. 

ture  the  "  Havana  Lottery,"  and  it  answered  to 
a  charm. 

Tlie  Banco  offices  in  New  York  are  generally 
conducted  by  a  firm  of  two  or  three,  and  they 
employ  an  army  of  "  ropers-in."  These  oflfice's 
are  furnished  with  all  the  appointments  of  first- 
class  commercial  houses,  and  have  a  substantial 
air  that  puta  to  flight  any  suspicion  that  may 
come  into  the  minds  of  visitors.  All  the  furni- 
ture, desks,  maps,  books,  are  of  the  very  best 
material,  and  selected  and  disposed  of  to  the 
very  best  advantage.  There  is  a  private  room, 
a  waiting  room,  a  consulting  room,  and  a  gen- 
eral office.  In  the  best  "  houses  "  glass  parti- 
tions and  glass  doors  abound,  bogus  clerks  are 
always  busy  over  portentious  books,  and  an  im- 
pression is  made  on  the  mind  of  the  "  customer  " 
at  his  very  entrance  that  largo  wealth  is  cer- 
tainly at  the  back  of  the  institution.  Of  course 
it  is  hot  easy  to  find  these  places.  A  sharp  man 
might  travel  a  large  city  for  a  whole  day,  and 
though  there  were  a  dozen  of  them  in  the  town, 
as  there  usually  is,  ho  could  not  detect  one.  But 
a  man  with  the  unsophisticated  air  and  awkward- 
ness of  a  Btrauger  will  soon  bo  approached  by  a 
Banco  "  roper  in"  and  be  saved  the  trouble  of 
looking. 

The  Banco  men  travel  in  pairs,  and  work  in 
the  following  manner: 

The  first  one,  or,  as  he  is  called,  the  "  feeler," 
as  soon  as  ho  notices  an  cliRible  stranger  on  the 
street,  or  in  any  large  public  place,  accosts  him 
in  a  warm,  gratified  manner  as  an  old  acquaint- 
ance. Taking  the  gentleman  by  the  hand,  he 
will  pour  out  a  volley  on  him  in  the  style  of  the 
ordinary  city  gentleman,  completely  at  his  ease. 

"  Bless  my  soul,"  he  will  ocgin",  "  when  did 
you  come  to  town?  Wliere  are  you  staving? 
Why  did  vou  not  come  up  to  the  house  ?  'Now, 
Where's  tLe  use  of  inviting  you  every  time  you 
come  to  the  city  if  you  won't  accept  a  fellow's 
hospitality  ?  At  all  events  you'll  come  and  see 
us  before  you  go.  I  sent  the  ironware  on  last 
week;  I  hope  they  turn  out  all  satisfactory." 

The  gentleman  is  so  overpowered  with  the 
good-nature  and  friendliness  of  this  reception 
that  he  invariably  replies: 

"Y'ouare  mistaken,  sir.  My  name  ia  Carter, 
not  Wilson.  I  am  in  the  dry-goods  line,  not 
hardware." 

Mr.  "  roper-in  "  expects  this,  so  he  is  not  in 
the  least  taken  aback,  but  with  the  most  assured 
coolness  in  the  world,  goes  on: 

"  Dear  me,  that's  very  strange.  I  would  have 
sworn  you  were  Mr.  Wilson,  from  London,  Ohio. 
Remarkable  likeness,  upon  my  word.  You  don't 
know  Lim,  I  euppoae  7  ' 


"  No,  sir;  I  am  from  Miles,  Michigan." 

"Well,  this  is  the  best  joke  of  the  season. 
Whom  I  jee  Wilson  we  shall  have  a  good  laugh 
at  it.  Good-bve,  Mr.  Carter;  I  am  very  sorry  I 
have  detained  you  so  long,  but  I  know  you'll 
excuse  me.  I  hope,  though,  we  shall  meet  again 
while  you  are  in  the  city." 

And  he  moves  ofi'  around  a  corner,  where  he 
is  encountered  by  his  partner,  "  roper-in  "  No. 
2,  or,  as  he  is  styled,  the  "  catcher."  Mr.  "  feel- 
er "  gives  Mr.  "  catcher  "  all  the  particulars  re- 
specting Mr.  Carter — that  is,  he  is  from  Miles, 
Michigan,  is  in  the  dry-goods  business,  in  the 
city  buyu  g  goods,  staying  at  such  a  hotel,  and 
so  on  •.Tith  whatever  he  has  gleaned  during  lus 
conversation  with  the  merchant. 

The  "  catcher  "  follows  Mr.  Carter  and  keeps 
alter  him  until  a  favorable  opportunity  occurs  for 
accosting  him,  when  walking  straight  up  to  the 
merchant,  with  extended  hand,  he  will  say: 

"  Good  gracious,  Mr.  Carter,  why  how  do  yoo. 
do,  and  what  are  you  doing  in  tow'n  ?  How  are 
all  the  folks  in  Miles?  I  trust  di-y-goods  are 
flourishing  ?    How  is  Mr.  AUcash  ?  " 

"Catcher"  has  found  the  name  in  the  Bank 
Note  Reporter,  a  publication  he  always  carries  in 
his  pocket  for  instant  reference,  and  knows  it  to 
be  that  of  the  president  of  the  First  National  Bank 
of  Carter's  city. 

Carter  is  at  first  surprised,  and  then  half 
pleased  at  meeting  some  one,  at  all  events,  from 
his  own  part  of  the  country.  Still,  with  the  cau- 
tion of  his  class,  he  will  answer: 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  can  place  you  exactly;  but 

"  Why,  you  know  old  Allcash's  family,  I  sup- 
pose ?  " 

"  Yes,  eir,  certainly,  every  one  of  them." 

"  Well,  I  ought  to"  be  heir  to  a  large  part  of 
whatever  is  left  there;  but  at  present  I  am " 

"  Not  Obediab's  nephew,  surely,  that  was  out 
east  here  at  college  ?  " 

"  You've  hit  it  now." 

"  Well,  this  beats  all;  and  you  may  swear  I'm 
just  the  same.  Now,  we'll  jiist  go  in  here  and 
take  a  little  drink." 

This  is  the  start,  and  over  their  dram,  Carter 
says: 

■'  But  now  tell  me,  what  are  you  doing  with 
yourself  .•'  " 

"  Well,  now,  I  want  to  confide  a  secret  to  you, 
Mr.  Carter,  and  you  must  promise  me  not  to  saj 
a  word  about  it  when  you  get  home.  It  is  the 
first  time  in  my  life  I  ever  did  such  a  thing,  and 
I  promise  you  it  will  be  the  last." 


SIDEWALK  OBCHESTRA. 

"  Don't  be  afraid.  I'll  say  nothing  of  it." 
"  Well,  as  I  was  comingover  in  the  cars  I  met 
a  Cnbsn  and  I  bought  a  Havana  Lotterv  Ticket 
from  him  for  a  dollar.  I  showed  it  to  the  clerk 
in  the  hotel  this  morning  and  he  informs  me  it 
has  drawn  a  prize." 


THE  GRKAT   KMPIRE   CITY. 


i-i 


"  That's  not   bo    bad,"  puts  in   Mr.   Carter. 
"  Though  it  is  sort  oJ  gambling  like,  aiu't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  want  to  get  what  it  calls  lor,"  con- 
tinues "  catcher,"  and  I  would  like  you  to  step 
over  as  far  as  the  banking  bouse  with  me." 
'     Carter  hesitates,  but  as  be  cannot  refuse  to 


SIDEWALK   REFRESHMENTS. 

•ccompany  a  townsman  so  short  a  distance,  he 
finally  complies.  They  find  the  banking  house, 
and  walk  in. 

"  Catcher  "  asks: 

"  Is  this  where  you  cash  Havana  Lottery 
tickets?" 

"Yes,"  is  the  prompt  reply.  "Allow  me  to 
see  your  ticket." 

"  Catcher  "  hands  a  printed  slip  made  to  re- 
semble a  genuine  ticket. 

Spnggins  behind  the  counter  puts  on  his 
glasses,  opens  a  huge  account  book,  examines 
the  ticket,  hunts  for  the  con'esponding  figures 
along  the  columns  of  his  journal,  turning  page 
after  page  and  masses  of  figures,  going  forward 
and  then  back  among  the  pages,  and  from  book 
to  book  in  \l  most  business-like  way  until  finally 
he  discovers  the  exact  counterpart  of  the  ticket. 
Then  looking  up  with  a  solemn  air,  pregnant 
with  the  magnitude  of  the  communication  he  is 
about  to  make,  Spriggins  or  his  representative 
remarks: 

"  Young  man,  this  ticket  draws  $5,000.  You 
doubtless  know  that  this  is  but  the  twentietli 
part  of  the  whole  ticket,  and  you  are  entitled  to 
but  $201  ?  •■ 

"  Yes,  si)'.  I'eplies  "  catcher,"  "  I  understand 
that." 

"  There  is  your  money,  sir,"  adds  Spriggins, 
handing  out  the  $200,  "  and  here  is  a  ticket  for 
the  one  dollar  that  entitles  you  to  a  chance  m 
ihe  special  drawing.  You  are  liable  to  get  from 
five  to  ten  thousand  dollars,  and  if  you  are 
pressed  for  time  you  can  call  in  to-monow." 

"  I  can't  do  it  to-morrow,"  says  "  catcher." 

"Then  leave  it  with  your  friend;  probably  he 
■will  remain  in  the  city  a  few  days." 

"  Catcher,"  turning  to  Mr.  Carter,  asks: 

"  When  are  you  going  home,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  intended  leaving  on  Monday  morning,  but 
I'm  afraid  I'll  be  too  busy  to  do  it  for  you." 

"Well,"  breaks  in  Spriggins,  "  as  far  as  that 
goes,  we  may  as  well  draw  it  now.  Walk  this 
way." 

He  introduces  them  into  a  private  room,  re- 
moves a  piano  cover  from  a  seeming  instru- 
ment, and  reveals  the  Banco  cloths  all  ready  for 
business. 

Taking  his  place  at  the  inside  center  of  the 
board,  Spriggins  explains  after  this  fashion: 

"  Gentlemen,  this  is  what  is  called  the  Havana 
Special  Drawing.  We  keep  this  diagram  here 
just  for  the  benefit  of  persons  who  reside  out  of 
town.  When  they  get  one  of  those  tickets  they 
have  but  to  come'here  and  see  the  result  decided 
ia  a  fev  minutes. 


"  Now,  a  moment's  attention,  and  I  will  explain 
it  to  you." 

"  Catcher  "  seats  himself  opposite  to  Rpriggint 
and  desires  Mr.  Carter  to  bo  seated  also,  as  he 
may  want  to  buy  a  ticket. 

Spriggins  quickly  takes  him  up,  saving: 

"  Wo  do  not  sell  tickets  hi^re.  Tliis  oilico  is 
merely  lor  the  accommodation  of  people  wlio 
have  been  successful,  and  draw  prizes.'' 

This  is  thrown  out  to  convince  Carter  that  he 
was  not  brought  there  with  the  ol)ject  of  selluig 
him  a  ticket. 

With  that  remark  as  a  parenthesis,  Spriggins 
goes  on: 

"  This  is  a  branch  of  the  Havana  Lottery.  As 
you  see,  there  are  forty-one  numbers,  out  of 
these  there  are  twelve  star  numbers  and  twenty- 
six  prizes,  which  avorage  from  two  for  one  up  to 
$5,000.  What  I  mean  by  two  for  one  is  this — if 
you  should  draw  this  number,  22,  it  says  two  for 
one.  You  would  get  for  four  tickets,  supposo 
that  your  tickets  were  for  the  amount  ol  $100, 
you  would  receive  $200.  and  so  on.  If  you  draw 
a  prize,  the  more  you  Lave  down  the  more  you 
would  take  up." 

At  this  point  Spriggins  takes  from  his  pocket 
a  roll  of  money  and  a  parcel  of  tickets,  running 
in  numbers  from  one  to  six.  Continuing  his  ex- 
planation, he  says: 

"  The  lowest  number  on  the  cloth  is  eight,  the 
highest  forty-eight.  Between  these  are  to  be 
found  all  intervening  numbers.  By  drawing 
eight  of  those  tickets  from  this  package,  and  add- 
ing the  numbers  together  the  same  as  with  dice, 
you  will  get  a  result  in  round  figures,  and  a  corre- 
spondent to  that  result  you  will  find  on  the  cloth. 
Now,  that  combination  made  and  the  result  dis- 
covered, I  will  pay  you  whatever  that  number 
calls  for  from  $1  to  $5,000." 

"  Catcher,"  appearing  satisfied  with  the  ex- 
planation, draws.  Spriggins  informs  him  that 
there  is  no  prize,  but  adds: 

"  if  you  put  one  dollar  with  that  one  you  can 
draw  again,  and  if  you  get  a  prize  I  will  pay  you 
double  the  amount." 

"Catcher"  pays  the  dollar,  and,  turning  to 
Carter,  requests  him  to  make  a  draw  lor  him,  as 
he,  "  Catcher,"  is  unlucky. 

Carter  draws  and  receives  $40. 

"Draw  again,  Mr.  Carter,"  urges  "catcher," 
'  and  1  will  put  down  one  of  those  tickets  for  my- 
self and  one  tor  you,  so  that  if  you  should  win  the 
S5,000  you  share  half  without  the  laying  out  of  a 
dollar." 

Carter  draws,  and,  as  before,  is  paid  two  for 


^^: — 

THE  UTTLE  FLOWER  GTRL. 

one.    Both  are  then  handed  two  tickets  each  by 
Spriggins. 

When  this  period  in  the  game  is  reached,  the 
"  catcher  "  usually  suggests  taking  out  some  of 
the  money,  but  Mr.  Carter,  or,  as  he  is  termed, 
the  "  sucker,"  will  as  generally  object  to  it  until 


they  have  made  another  trial  of  fortune.  Tha 
next  draw  represents  a  steer,  and  here  Spnggin» 
stops  the  game  to  point  out  that* 

"Whenever  you  draw  a  stea- yon  have  the 
privilege  of  doubling  up,  and  if  y  ju  draw  ssvea 
steers  without  taking  ^  prize  you  are  entitled  ta 


THE   nrP.RF.LLA   MAM. 

receive  all  your  money  back.  But  remember 
you  must  represent,  each  time  you  draw,  a. 
steer.  If  you  should  get  this  number,  27,  it  has 
two  steers.  I  should  have  to  place  $500  to  your 
credit,  and  that  money  would  remam  in  chancery 
until  the  end  of  the  seven  draws.  In  case  you 
then  drew  nothing  but  steers,  you  would  take"  ali 
you  put  on  the  cloth  as  well  as  the  $500  in  chan- 
cery; so  you  see,  gentlemen,  by  that  manage- 
ment of  the  numbers  you  would  gain  a  large 
amount  of  mouey.  Now,  you  must  represent 
every  throw.  This  time  it  will  take  one  more  oS 
your  tickets,  and  you  draw  again." 

With  a  grand  flourish  and  much  show  of  open, 
dealing,  Spriggins  manipulates  the  numbers, 
counting  them  as  he  finishec  with  number  twen- 
ty-seven and  exclaiming: 

"I  have  to  place  $5,000  to  the  credit  of  each  of 
you  gentlemen." 

"  Catcher "  becomes  very  excited,  gambols 
about  the  room,  and  shakes  hands  several  tunes 
with  the  verdant  Carter.  Spriggins  coolly  counts 
out  fhe  money,  puts  it  in  two  silver  vessels  that 
stand  on  either  side  of  him.  He  continues  his- 
exordium  on  the  matter  in  hand,  and  works  to- 
ward the  commencement  of  a  new  deal  with  all 
the  ease  of  a  man  entirely  untouched  by  the 
great  loss  he  has  suffered — one  used  to  the  great 
game  of  life-losing,  winning  and  losing. 

"You  have  now  but  four  draws  left,  gentle- 
men," the  trained,  well-modulated  voice  an- 
nounces, "  so  that  entails  an  addition  of  six  dol- 
lars each  to  your  tickets." 

It  is  easy  to  understand  what  is  the  state  of 
feeling  to  which  the  pair  of  swindlers  have,  by 
this  time,  roused  Carter;  he  will  quickly  follow 
the  example  and  advice  of  his  newly-found  friend. 

"  Catcher  "  puts  up  his  six  dollars  and  Carter'* 
pocket-book  is  out  in  a  minute  and  open.  Hi» 
stock  of  money  is  no  sooner  uncovered  than  its- 
bulk  is  scanned  by  four  sharp  eyes,  well  prac- 
ticed in  this  sort  of  work. 

On  goes  the  game,  until  it  requires  too  in 
money  to  back  np  the  tickets,  and  but  two  draws 
left.  The  money  is  again  placed  m  the  bank, 
and  then  a  star  is  spotted. 

It  now  takes  $225,  and  but  one  more  chance 
remaining. 

"  If  you  do  not  draw  a  prize  this  time,"  ejacu 
lated  Spriggins,  "all  you  can  lose  is  your  tick 
ets.  You  take  hack  your  money,  and  $500  placea 
for  you  in  chanceryl" 

Another  turn  of  fortune  around  and  Spriggina 
appears  to  be  attacked  with  the  slightest  posaiblsi 
shade  of  excitement. 


32 


THK   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY 


"  This  is  your  last  hope,  gentlemen,  and  it 
matters  not  what  you  draw,  it  must  be  a  stud  or 
a  priae,  and  it  takes  $1,250,  which  you  must 
represent." 

Carter,  feeling  that  he  has  gone  too  far  to  re- 
tract at  this  stage,  the  spirit  of  the  place  and  tlie 
thing  being  strong  upon  him,  the  money  is 
kanded  over,  though  reluctantly,  aud  Spriggins 
again  moves. 

If  Mr.  Carter  should  not  have  that  amount 
about  him,  the  scamps  will  oblige  him  by  ac- 
cepting a  check,  and  that  ceremony  ended  where 
it  is  required,  all  seem  satisfied  but  the  unhappy 
iman  tbey  are  fleecing,  and  he  sits  pale  and  bag- 


^ — r 

THE   W.VXDERrSQ  JEW. 

gard  on  the  ragged  edge  of  expectation,  hope 
and  dread.  Spriggms  resumes  the  chorus,  and 
on  it  runs  to  the  effect: 

"  This  is  your  last  draw,  gentlemen,  and 
should  you  strike  the  blank  or  '  Banco,'  you  lose 
it.  That  number  is  twenty-eight,  but  you  might 
be  drawing  numbers  for  six  months  and  never 
strike  that  one.  Indeed,  our  experience  is  that 
it  is  very  seldom  reached."' 

The  last  drawing  is  completed,  the  numbers 
on  the  tickets  are  counted  up  aud  make  exactly 
twenty-eight.  This  is  the  point  of  the  whole 
game,  and  one  which  the  thieves  are  always  en- 
deavoring to  reach.  It  is  effected  with  veryhttle 
aleight  of  band,  but  it  produces  wonderful  re- 
aultsi 

"Catcher"  jumps  to  his  feet  as  Spriggins 
quietly  puts  the  money  in  the  drawer,  and  asks 
Carter  to  oome  along.  Carter  hesitates,  and 
Spriggins  looks  up  for  a  moment  and  remarks: 

"  Gentlemen,  its  customary  for  us  to  take  the 
names  of  those  who  lose  or  win  monev  in  this 
office  during  the  day  for  pubhcation  in  the  news- 
papers as  a  guarantee  ot  fair  play  to  the  public. 
Will  yoB  oblige  me  by  signing  in  this  register  ?  " 

This  is  the  last  straw  on  the  poor,  honest,  sim- 
ple camel's  back.  The  prospect  of  being  shown 
up  in  the  New  York  papers  as  a  gambler,  a  man 
wno  comes  to  town  on  business  and  begins  it  in 
a  gaming-house,  is  more  dreadful  than  the  actu- 
ality of  the  loss  of  his  money.  He  mutters  some- 
thing about  never  mind  the  register,  and  gets  out 
as  quickly  as  he  can,  buys  his  goods  on  credit, 
pawns  his  jewelry  to  pay  his  expenses,  and  goes 
home  a  poorer  and  wiser  man. 

Now  and  then  the  Banco  men  get  their  fingers 
in  the  wrong  pie,  though. 

As,  for  instance,  in  the  case  of  the  young  En- 
glishman a  short  time  ago,  whose  acquaintance 
a  "catcher"  made  at  the  Astor  House.  The 
Britain  was  steered  in,  put  through  the  usual 
experience,  and  turned  loose,  short  some  $700, 
all  the  money  he  had  in  the  world.  He  went 
out,  but  he  did  not  forget  the  location  of  the 
bank,  and  going  to  the  British  consulate  got  a 
Iriend  and  fellow  John  Bull  to  return  with  him. 

He  explained  that  he  wanted  to  show  his 
friend  the  new  American  game,  and  the  sharp- 
ers, taken  in  by  the  apparent  rawness  of  the  two, 
aCODsented  to  uncover  the  cloth  again. 


The  consulate  man  had  a  big  roll  of  money, 
and  betfreely.  Spnggms  forgot  his  suspicions, 
and  backed  the  game  heavily.  When  there  was 
some  $1,200  on  the  table  the  swindled  English- 
man seized  the  pile  of  notes  and  put  them  in  his 
pocket.  Dealer  and  hangers  on  jumped  up,  but 
they  were  caught  in  their  own  trap. 

They  dared  not  make  a  noise,  and  so  call  the 
police  down  on  them,  and  their  late  victim 
walked  off,  now  their  conquerors,  with  his  losses 
in  his  pocket,  with  compound  interest. 

No  one  who  plays  lawn  tennis  with  the  Queen's 
English  can  get  his  nose  inside  that  Banco  room 
door  now,  not  if  he  carries  his  pockets  stuffed 
with  currency.  The  burnt  child  dreads  the  fire. 
— From  "  Tfie  Man-Traps  of  New  York,"  pub- 
lished by  Jiichard  K.  Fox. 


THE  GAMBLINS  MANIA  AND  ITS  FRUITS. 


FaoJi  Matthew  Hale  Smith's  "  Sunshine  and 
Shadow  in  New  York,"  pubUshed  by  the  J.  B. 
Burr  Publishing  Co.,  Hartford,  Coim.,  we  ex- 
tract the  following  interesting  article: 

The  haste  to  be  rich,  by  a  lucky  stroke  of  for- 
tune,by  hazarding  a  few  thousands  in  Wall  Street, 
is  the  same  spirit  that  l«ads  thousands  to  the 
gambUng  table.  Lines  of  victims  move  in  pro- 
cession into  the  street  daUy  to  try  their  fortune. 
Into  the  great  maelstrom  money  is  thrown, 
earned  in  the  mines  of  Montana,  dug  out  of  the 
rich  soil  of  California,  earned  by  hard  toil  on  a 
New  England  farm.  The  surplus  of  a  success- 
ful season  in  trade,  the  hard  earnings  of  a  me- 
chanic, whose  wife  wishes  to  go  to  Newport  aud 
the  Springs — the  wife's  dower  that  should  be  put 
down  in  government  securities,  the  pittance  of 
the  orphan,  by  which  it  is  hoped  that  one  thou- 
sand will  swell  to  ten  if  not  to  hundreds,  are 
hazarded  in  stock  speculations.  However  Hon- 
est and  regular  as  a  class  brokers  may  be,  the 
gambling  mania  ceutcriiig  in  Wall  Street  sweeps 
like  the  simoon  of  the  desert  over  every  section 
of  our  land.  The  wliole  business  of  the  country 
has  been  thrown  from  its  center,  and  trade  gen- 
erally partakes  of  the  excitement  and  fluctuation 
of  stbcKs  in  the  market.  A  man  who  goes  into 
Wall  Street  to  do  business,  goes  with  his  eyes 
open.  He  knows,  or  may  know,  that  he  is  at  "the 
mercy  of  a  dozen  unscrupulous  men  who  can 
swallow  him  up  in  an  hour  if  they  will.  Among 
the  thousand  small  brokers  of  the'  street,  there  is 
a  perfect  understanding  that  any  one  of  them  may 
go  home  penniless  before  night.  The  same  com- 
binations that  lock  up  greeubackB  and  corner 
gold  in  the  street,  strike  trade  in  every  direc- 
tion. Wheat  and  corn  are  subject  to  the  same 
fluctuation  aud  uncertainty  that  attends  stock.  A 
speculator  in  the  street  gets  a  private  telegram 
that  grain  is  scarce,  or  corn  heated,  or  some 
news  that  affects  the  market.  Ho  goes  immedi- 
ately to  the  Corn  Exchange  and  bulls  and  bears 
grain  as  he  would  stocks.  The  same  men  mo- 
nopolize coal.  The  market  is  entirely  brought 
up,  or  the  miners  are  paid  daily  n  age's  to  go  on 
a  strike. 

A  c.vsE  IS  ponrr. 

Dry  goods  arc  as  sensitive  and  as  much  sub- 
ject to  the  gambling  mania  as  money.  Extrava- 
gant hotels,  aristocrahc  groceries,  from  which 
goods  are  delivered  by  servants  in  livery,  enor- 
mous drinking  places  fitted  up  like  a  royal  pal- 
ace, bespeak  the  extravagance  of  the  age.  In  the 
vicinity  of  Union  Park  a  snobby  speculator,  some 
time  ago,  set  up  a  then  pnncelv  mansion.  It  was 
brown  stone  in  front,  aud  radiant  in  gold  and 
gilt.  It  was  furnished  sumptuously  with  gold 
gilt  rosewood  furniture,  satin  coverings  woven  in 
gold  and  imported  from  Paris,  carpets  more  cost- 
Iv  than  were  ever  before  laid  in  the  city,  and  all 
tlie  applianoes  of  fashion,  wealth  and  taste,  were 
included  in  the  adornment.  It  was  a  nine  days* 
wonder  of  the  city,  and,  like  other  experiments 
of  the  same  sort,  it  came  to  an  end.  The  furni- 
ture was  brought  to  the  block  and  the  family  dis- 
appeared from  among  the  aristocracy  of  the  city. 
A  new  sensation  awaited  the  curious.  The  splen- 
did mansion  was  to  be  turned  into  a  first-class 
dry  goods  store.  It  would  outrival  Stewart  and 
Claflin,  and  nothing  to  equal  it  would  be  found 
in  London  or  Paris.  The  whole  front  was  torn 
out  and  the  building  fitted  up  with  plate  glass, 
and  made  gorgeous  as  the  reception  room  of  a 
sovereigu.  Rumor  ascribed  to  the  firm  untold 
wealth,  so  that  should  they  sink  one  or  two  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  in  establishing  trade,  it 
would  not  embarrass  or  discourage  the  house. 
The  opening  day  came,  and  such  a  sight  New 
York  never  saw.  All  the  stories  were  thrown 
open.  The  business  was  in  apartments  and 
gorgeously  fitted  up.  An  army  of  salesmen  and 
clerks  were  in  their  places,  arrayed  in  full  even- 


ing dress,  with  white  gloves.  All  New  Yorl 
poured  in,  as  it  would  have  done  to  have  see* 
the  proprietors  hanged— and  then  turned  awaj 
as  fashionable  New  York  will,  leaving  the  con- 
cern high  and  dry  like  a  vessel  on  the  beach.  A 
disasti-ous  failure  followed,  and  the  ruined  spec- 
ulators, satisfied  that  New  York  Avas  not  a  tuea'  . 
tre  for  theft-  genius,  retired.  Three  hundred 
thousand  dollars  could  not  have  been  lost  more 
artistically  in  Wall  Street. 

>'0    UOBAI.    PBINCIPLE. 

Gambling  and  moral  principle  arj  not  yoke 
fellows.  The  very  stj'le  of  business  done  in  the 
street  brunts  the  moral  sense.  When  Swarth- 
wout  embezzled  the  Government  funds  and  gave 
his  name  to  a  system  of  swindling  which  has  be- 
come so  disgracefully  common,  he  stood  alone  in 
his  disgraceful  eminence.  To-d»y  gigantic 
frauds,  embezzlements  and  robberies  are  so  com- 
mon that  but  little  attention  is  paid  to  the  revela- 
tions. The  papers  are  full  of  mstances  of  trust- 
ed aud  honored  men,  who  commit  great  frauds. 
A  small  portion  only  of  such  crimes  come  to  the 
surface.  The  affair  is  hushed  up  to  prevent 
family  disgrace.  A  corporation  threatened  with 
the  loss  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  or 
more  by  the  roguery  of  an  official,  had  rather 
take  the  money  from  a  friend  than  lock  up  the 
criminal.  Thousands  of  companies  sprung  up 
during  the  oil  speculations.  Full  two-thirds  of 
these  were  frauds,  aud  dupes  and  victims  swin- 
dled on  the  right  aud  on  the  left,  were  counted 
by  thousands.  Men  who  went  to  bed  supposing 
that  they  were  worth  a  quarter  of  a  million  awoke 
in  the  morning  to  find  that  they  had  been  swin- 
dled out  of  all  their  money,  and  were  beggars. 
The  spirit  infects  nearly  all  the  officials  of  the 
Government  to-day.  The  money  stolen  by  men 
in  public  places  is  lost  in  Wall  Street  or  squan- 
dered at  the  gaming  table.  Nov  long  since  one 
of  the  best  known  business  men  was  snddenly 
killed  OB  a  train  of  cars.  No  man  stood  highe'r 
in  the  church  or  State.  He  had  immense  sums  of 
trust  money  in  his  hands  belonging  to  widows  and 
orphans,  and  religious  associations,  for  he  was 
thought  safer  than  any  savings  bank.  He  was  a 
fine  looking  man,  cheery  in  spirit,  agreeable  in 
manner.  He  was  supposed  to  be  the  embodi- 
ment of  integrity  and  fidelity.  His  sudden  death 
brought  his  affairs  to  the  surface.  He  was  found 
to  be  a  defaulter  to  an  immense  amount.  He 
had  taken  the  funds  of  widows  and  orphans  aud 


THE  PEANDT  VENDER. 

sunk  them  in  the  maelstrom  of  Wall  Street.  In- 
stead of  leaving  his  family  a  princely  fortune,  he 
left  his  wife  and  children  dishonored  and  ruined. 
In  the  olden  time,  a  merchant  would  no  more 
have  used  trust  money  in  his  own  business  than 
he  would  have  committed  any  other  great  crime. 
At  the  head  of  one  of  our  largest  and  most  suc- 
cesrtul  banks  was  a  gentleman,  who  for  a  quar- 
ter of  a  century  had  the  established  reputation 
which  high  honor,  business  talent  and  honest  de- 
votion to  his  pursuits  give.  His  habits  were  sim- 
ple; his  house  modest,  and  his  style  of  living 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE  CITY. 


33 


much  below  hia  position.  He  left  the  bank  one 
night,  at  the  usual  time,  bidding  lua  associatea  a 
cheery  good  evening.  He  did  not  return;  he  has 
never  returned.  Ou  examining  hia  accounts,  it 
was  found  that  he  was  a  heavy  defaulter.  Not 
content  with  hia  salary  and  hia  business,  anxious 
^o  secure  a  fortune  wliicli  could  be  had  for  the 
taking,  ho  put  himself  into  the  hands  of  stock 
gamblera.  He  squandered  hia  own  money  and 
the  fortune  of  hia  wife,  sold  bonds  placed  in  the 
bank  for  safe  keepmg,  and  speculated  with  and 
lost  the  funds  of  depoaitoi-a.  He  carried  nothing 
with  him,  but  lied  from  hia  homo  a  poor,  as  well 
a8  a  disgraced  man — bankrupt  in  fortune,  in- 
tegrity and  all. 

The  frequent  and  glaring  crimes  connected 
with  gold  gambling  do  not  alarm  the  community, 
ijome  regard  the  revelations  aa  a  good  joke,  or  a 
sharp  hit.  Men  wonder  how  much  the  party 
made,  and  often  consider  the  criminal  a  fool  for 
not  doing  better.  Bets  are  troquently  put  up,  as 
to  the  amounts  taken;  if  the  robbery  runs  up  to 
a  hundred  or  two  hundred  thousand  dollars, 
tlieu  the  speculation  is  aa  to  how  much  the  de- 
faulter will  return  to  have  the  matter  huahed  up. 
To  ahow  how  little  public  moralitv  there  is,  take 
an  incident:  I  was  present  not  long  since  at  a 
convention  held  under  the  auspices  of  one  of  the 
loading  religious  denotainatioua  of  the  State.  A 
prominent  pastor  of  this  city  accused  another  of 
stating  things  that  were  wholly  false,  both  on  the 
tloor  of  the  meeting  and  outsiae.  Other  eminent 
men  conlirmed  the  statement,  one  of  whom  said 
that  the  pastor  was  notorious  for  his  "  conspicu- 
ous inaccuracies."  The  whole  thing  was  treated 
as  a  good  joke.  The  party  accused  was  covered 
with  confusion  and  could  not  reply.  The  con- 
vention was  very  merry  over  his  embarrasament. 
Twenty-live  years  ago  had  a  New  York  pastor 
been  accused  of  falsehood  in  an  assembly  and 
confessed  it  by  his  silence,  t!ie  whole  religious 
world  would  have  been  agitated.  One  of  our 
banks  was  robbed,  and  it  put  its  loss  at  twenty- 
tive  thousand  dollars.  The  community  didn't 
believe  a  word  of  it,  and  the  community  were 
right.  Another  bank,  which  had  lost  heavily  by 
a  defaulting  cashier,  made  an  official  statement 
that  its  loss  would  not  exceed  one  hundred  thou- 
sand dollara.  A  few  years  ago  such  a  statement 
signed  by  bank  officers  would  have  received  im- 
plicit credit.  Not  only  the  press  placed  no  re- 
liance in  such  official  statement,  but  the  discus- 
sions in  the  banks  and  on  change  showed  the 
want  of  confidence  in  such  matters.  In  this  age 
of  demoralization,  when  everything  ia  unaettled 
morally,  and  everybody  is  at  sea,  when  checks, 
notes  and  bonda  have  to  be  examined  with  a  mi- 
croscope to  see  whether  they  are  forged  or  al- 
tered, when  the  recklessness,  infatuation,  and 
madness  of  Baden  Baden  pervades  every  depart- 
ment of  business,  it  ia  aomethmg  to  say  that  in 
the  Board  of  Brokers  in  Wall  Street  there  has  not 
appeared  a  defaulter  in  a  quarter  of  a  century, 
or  a  man  that  has  repudiated  or  broken  hia  con- 
tracts. 

THE   INFATU.VTIOX. 

'  .Men  who  have  had  a  taale  of  the  atreet  cannot 
be  kept  from  their  favorite  haunta.  I  sat  in  the 
office  of  a  gentleman  the  other  day,  who,  six 
months  ago,  was  a  rich  man.  For  twenty-five 
years  he  has  done  a  successful  buaineaa,  and  at 
"uo  time  haa  known  financial  embarrassment. 
He  lived  in  luxury  in  a  city  and  country  home. 
It  was  his  boast  that  he  never  gave  a  note,  in- 
curred a  debt,  or  failed  to  have  his  check  hon- 
ored for  any  amount  needed.  A  nice  little 
scheme  was  presented  to  him  by  some  confiden- 
tial friends.  It  was  a  time  of  general  excitement. 
The  speculation  waa  such  a  nice  one,  and  the 
gain  so  certain  and  large,  that  the  man  placed 
his  name  at  the  disposal  of  the  combination,  and, 
of  course,  was  ruined.  It  took  him  twelve  hours 
to  scatter  the  labor  of  twenty-four  years.  Some 
spiritualiata  got  hold  of  a  capitalist  not  long 
since.  He  had  half  a  milhon  to  invest,  and  he 
did  it  in  original  style.  Having  great  confidence 
iu  Webster  and  Clay  while  they  lived,  he  thought 
they  might  have  a  better  acquaintance  with  finan- 
cial" matters  in  the  spirit  land  than  they  exhibited 
when  they  lived.  Through  parties  competent  to 
do  it,  he  opened  communications  with  those  dis- 
tinguished statesmen.  They  seemed  very  ready 
to  assist  him  in  his  speculations.  They  wrote 
him  long  communications  through  his  mediums, 
which  he  read  to  his  friends.  It  was  observed 
that  Clay's  intellect  seemed  to  be  a  little  shaken 
since  hia  departure,  and  Webster  was  more  dif- 
fuse and  leas  compact  and  sententious  than  when 
in  the  land  of  the  living.  It  waa  also  very  ap- 
parent that  these  distinguished  gentlemen  in  the 
spirit  land  did  not  know  much  about  the  affiiira 
in  this  world,  for  the  speculationa  proved  moat 
ruinnns.     T!ipv  t\.>  1  u-vf'io  <t  lol  pi  ni's   fov':ri'<. 


and  well  nigh  beggared  him.  But  hia  confidence 
in  the  ability  of  Webster  and  Clay  to  guide  him 
to  untold  wealth  is  unshaken.  How  uncertain 
speculation  ia  may  be  learned  from  an  answer 
given  by  one  of  our  oldest  and  most  successful 
brokers  to  a  friend.  "  I  have  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars to  invest,"  said  the  man  to  the  dealer  in 
atocka,  "what  would  you  advise  mo  to  do?" 
The  broker  pointed  his  finger  to  a  donkey  cart 
going  by,  loaded  with  ashes,  "Oo  and  asK  that 
man  driving  the  ash  cart,"  said  the  broker;  "  he 
knowa  as  much  about  it  as  I  do."  When  the 
oldest,  the  shrewdest  and  the  most  successful 
operators  lose  from  fifty  thousand  to  half  a  mil- 
lion at  a  blow,  what  can  small  speculators  ex- 
Eect  'I  Yet  the  infatuation  continues.  Seedy  men 
ang  around  their  old  haunts,  waiting  for  some- 
thing to  turn  up.  There  is  an  old  man  nearly 
eighty,  who  can  bo  seen  daily  in  Wall  Street,  who 
IS  as  infatuated  as  any  gambler  in  the  world.  He 
waa  accounted  a  millionaire  a  few  months  ago. 
Naturally  cool,  selfish  and  self-reliant,  a  mania 
seemed  to  have  possessed  him.  He  promised 
over  and  over  again  to  leave  the  atreet.  Every- 
body aaw  that  he  was  going  to  ruin.  One  morn- 
ing he  came  down,  made  a  plunge,  loat  every- 
thing, and  has  gone  home  to  die — a  type  of 
tribes  who  dabble  in  stock. 

SHARP   PRACTICE. 

The  sudden  collapse  of  fortunes,  closing  of 
elegant  mansiona,  the  selling  off  of  plate  and 
horaea  at  auction,  the  hurling  of  men  down  from 
firat-claas  poaitiona  to  aubordinate  posts,  is  an 
overy-day  occurrence  in  New  York.  In  almost 
every  case  these  reverses  result  from  outside 
trading  and  meddling  with  matters  foreign  to 
one's  legitimate  business.  The  city  is  full  of 
sharp  rogues  and  unprincipled  speculators,  who 
lie  awake  nigbta  to  catch  the  unwary.  None  arc 
more  easily  ensnared  than  hotel-keepera,  and 
this  18  the  way  it  ia  done:  A  well-dressed,  good- 
looking  man  comes  into  a  hotel,  and  brings  his 
card  as  the  president  of  some  great  stock  com- 
pany. In  a  careless,  indifferent  way  he  asks  to 
look  at  a  suite  of  rooms.  He  has  previously  as- 
certained that  the  proprietor  has  from  fifty  to  a 
hundred  thousand  dollara  in  the  bank  waiting 
for  something  to  turn  up.  The  rooms  shown 
are  not  good  enough.  He  wants  rooms  that  will 
accommodate  certain  distinguished  gentlemen, 
whom  he  names,  who  happen  to  be  the  well- 
known  leading  financiers  of  the  great  cities.  A 
better  suite  is  shown  the  president.  The  coat  is 
high — one  thousand  dollars  a  month.  But  the 
rooms  auit;  he  must  accommodate  his  friends;  a 
few  thousands  one  way  or  the  other  won't  make 
much  difference  with  his  company;  so  he  con- 
cludes to  take  the  rooms.  The  landlord  hints  at 
references;  the  president  chuckles  at  the  idea 
that  he  should  be  called  on  for  references;  he 
never  givea  any:  but  if  the  landlord  wants  one 
or  two  thouaand  dollars,  he  can  have  it.  "Let 
me  8ee,"the  president  aaya  very  coolly,  "  I  ahall 
want  these  rooms  about  six  months,  off  and  on. 
I  may  be  gone  half  the  time  or  more.  If  it's  any 
accommodation  to  you,  I  will  give  you  my  check 
for  SIX  thousand  dollara,  and  pay  the  whole  thing 
up."  Of  courae  the  landlord?  ia  all  amiles,  and 
the  president  takes  possession.  Before  the  six 
months  are  out,  from  fifty  to  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars  of  the  landlord's  money  goes  into  the 
hands  of  the  speculator,  and  a  lot  of  worthless 
stock  is  locked  up  in  the  aafe  of  the  hotel. 

Another  scheme  is  equally  aucceaaful.  The 
rooma  are  taken,  and  the  occupant  ia  the  moat 
liberal  of  gueats.  Champagne  auppera  and  coat- 
ly  vianda  are  ordered  without  stint,  and  prompt- 
ly paid  for.  Coaches  with  liveried  drivers  and 
footmen,  hired  for  the  occasion,  leave  imposing 
cards  at  the  hotel.  The  obseqiuous  landlord 
and  well-feed  steward  pay  especial  attention  to 
the  wants  of  the  liberal  guest.  Waiters  fly  at  his 
command,  and  the  choicest  tit-bits  are  placed 
before  him.  Picking  hia  teeth  after  breakfast 
while  the  landlord  ia  chatting  with  him  some 
Saturday  morning  when  it  rains,  he  expresses  a 
wish,  rather  indifferently,  that  he  had  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars.  His  banker  won't  be  home  till 
Monday— don't  care  much  about  it — get  it  easy 
enough  going  down  town — wouldn't  go  out  in  the 
rain  for  twice  the  sum — indifferent  about  it,  and 
vet  evidently  annoyed.  The  landlord  goes  into 
Lis  office  and  examines  his  bank  account,  and 
finds  ho  can  spare  fifty  thousand  dollars,  without 
any  inconvenience,  till  Monday.  Glad  to  accom- 
modate his  distinguished  guest,  who  is  going  to 
bring  all  the  moneyed  men  to  his  liotel,  he  hands 
over  the  money,  which  is  refused  three  or  lour 
times  before  it  is  taken.  On  Monday  morning 
the  hotel  man  finds  that  his  distinguished  tenant 
has  put  a  Sabbath  between  himself  and  pursuit. 
Such  tricks  are  played  constantly,  and  new  vic- 
fi':i->  v.^"  I"'i'in  1  cvcrv  d:<v. 


TSt£  8TREET  ON  THE  OUTSIDE. 

Men  who  visit  New  York,  and  see  nothing  but 
the  outside  aspect  which  it  presents,  imaguio 
that  succesa  is  one  of  the  easiest  things  in  the 
world,  and  to  heap  up  riches,  a  mere  paatinio  in 
the  city.  They  are  familiar  with  the  name  and 
history  of  theAstors.  They  know  that  Stewart 
began  life  a  poor  boy,  kept  store  in  a  siuaU 
ahanty,  and  kept  house  in  a  few  rooms  in  a 
dwelling,  and  boarded  his  help.  They  walk 
through  Fifth  Avenue,  and  look  on  tlie  outside  ol 
palacea  where  men  dwell  who  left  home  a  few 
yeara  ago  with  their  worldly  wealth  tied  up  in  a 
cotton  handkerchief.  Tlioy  stroll  around  Central 
I'ark,  and  magnificent  tca'ma,  gav  equipagea  and 
gayer  ladies  and  gentlemen  go  by  in  a  constant 
stream;  and  men  are  pointed  out  who,  a  short 
time  ago,  were  grooms,  coachmen,  ticket-takera, 
boot-blacks,  news-boys,  printer's  devils,  porters 
and  coal-heavers,  who  have  come  up  from  ths 
lower  walks  of  life  by  dabbling  in  stocks,  by  a 
lucky  speculation,  or  a  audden  turn  of  fortune. 
So  young  men  pour  in  from  the  country,  confi- 
dent of  auccesa,  and  ignorant  that  these  men  are 
the  exceptions  to  the  general  law  of  trade;  and 
that  ruin  and  not  success,  defeat  and  not  fortune, 
bankruptcy  and  not  a  fine  competence,  are  the 
law  of  New  York  trade. 

Nothing  ia  more  striking  or  more  sad  than  the 
commercial  reverses  of  this  city.  They  come 
like  tempests  and  hail-storms  which  threaten 
every  man's  plantation,  and  cut  down  the  har- 
vest ready  for  the  sickle.  Few  firms  have  bad 
Eormanent  succesa  for  twenty-five  years.  In  one 
ouso  in  this  city  twenty  men  are  employed  as 
salesmen  on  a  salary,  who,  ten  yeara  ago,  were 
called  princely  merchants,  whose  famihes  lived 
in  style,  and  who  led  the  fashions.  Men  who 
embark  on  the  treacherous  sea  of  mercantile  life 
are  ingulfed,  and  while  their  richlv-laden  barke 
go  down,  they  escape  personally  by  the  masts 
and  apars  thrown  to  them  by  more  fortunate  ad- 
venturers. One  houae  in  thia  city,  quite  as  cele- 
brated at  one  time  as  Stewart's,  who,  in  imitation 
of  that  gentleman,  built  their  marble  store  on 
Broadway,  are  now  salesmen  in  establishmenta 
more  successful  than  their  own.  New  York  is 
full  of  reduced  merchants.  Some  of  them  brave- 
ly bear  up  under  their  reverses.  Some  hide 
away  ia  the  multitude  of  our  people.  Some  take 
rooma  in  tenement-housea.  Some  do  a  little 
brokerage  busineaa,  given  to  them  by  thoae  who 
knew  them  m  better  daya.  Some  take  to  the  bot- 
tle, and  add  moral  to  commercial  ru' 

THE   SCHUYLER   FRAUD. 

One  of  the  most  successful  railroad  men  of 
New  York  boarded  at  one  of  our  principal  hotels. 
He  was  an  unmarried  man.  He  waa  accounted 
an  eminent  and  successful  financier.  His  repu- 
tation and  standing  were  unquestioned.  He  was 
connected  with  the  principal  capitahsts  in  the 
city,  and  waa  one  whom  New  York  delighted  to 
honor.  In  a  small  house  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
city  he  had  a  home.  Here  he  lived  a  part  of  his 
time,  and  reared  a  family,  though  the  mother  of 
his  children  was  not  his  wife.  Down  town,  at  bis 
hotel,  he  passed  by  one  name;  up  town,  in  his 
house,  he  was  known  by  another.  It  would  seem 
impoaaible  that  a  prominent  business  man,  re- 
puted to  be  rich,  brought  into  daily  busmeae 
contact  with  princely  merchants  and  bankers,  the 
head  of  a  large  railroad  interest,  could  reside  in 
New  York,  and  for  a  number  of  years  lead  the 
double  life  of  a  bachelor  and  a  man  of  family;  be 
known  by  one  name  down  town,  and  another 
name  up  town;  yet  so  it  waa.  At  hia  hotel  and 
at  hia  office  he  was  found  at  the  usual  hours. 
To  his  up  town  home  he  came  late  and  went  out 
early.  'There  he  was  seldom  seen.  The  land- 
lord, the  butcher,  the  grocer  and  the  milkman 
transacted  all  their  business  with  the  lady.  Bills 
were  promptly  paid,  and  no  questions  asked. 
The  little  girls"  became  young  ladies.  They  went 
to  the  best  boarding-schools  in  the  land. 

An  unexpected  crisis  came.  A  clergyman  in 
good  standing  became  acquainted  with  one  of 
the  daughters  at  her  boarding-school.  He  re- 
garded her  with  so  much  mterest,  that  he  so- 
licited her  hand  in  marriage.  He  was  referred 
to  the  mother.  The  daughters  had  said  that  their 
father  was  a  wealthy  merchant  of  New  York;  but 
bis  name  did  not  appear  in  the  Directory,  he  was 
not  known  on  'change  The  lover  only  knew  the 
name  by  which  the  daughters  were  called.  The 
mother'was  affable,  but  embarrassed.  The  gen- 
tleman thought  something  was  wrong,  and  in- 
sisted on  a  personal  interview  with  the  father. 
The  time  was  appointed  for  the  interview.  The 
youug  man  was  greatly  astonished  to  discover  in 
the  father  of  the  young  lady  one  of  the  most  em- 
inent business  men  of  the  city.  He  gave  hia  con- 
sent to  the  marriage,  and  promised  to  do  well  by 
,1,,.    ,1  . •,..!, ■,.;•      tbMi'ij'.i    h.-    admitted    that    the 


34 


THK   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


mother  of  the  young  ]<  Jy  was  not  his  wife.  The 
clergyman  was  great'?  attached  to  the  young 
woman,  who  was  reaily  beautiful  and  accom- 
pbahed.  He  agreed  to  lead  her  to  the  altar,  if, 
at  the  same  time,  the  merchant  would  make  the 
mother  his  wife.  This  was  agreed  to,  and  the 
double  wedding  was  ooimummated  the  same 
night.  The  father  and  mother  were  first  mar- 
ried, and  then  the  father  gave  away  the  daugh- 
ter. The  affair  created  a  ten  days'  sensation. 
The  veil  of  secrecy  was  removed.  The  family 
took  the  down  town  name,  which  was  the  real 
one — a  name  among  the  most  honored  in  the 
city.  Au  up  town  fashionable  mansion  was  pur- 
chased, and  fitted  up  in  style.  Crowds  filled  the 
spacious  parlors,  for  there  was  just  piquancy 
enough  in  the  caso  to  make  it  attractive.  Splen- 
did coaches  of  the  fashionable  filled  the  street; 
a  dasliing  company  crowded  the  pavement,  and 
rusliud  up  the  steps  tr  enjoy  the  sights.  These 
brilliant  parties  continued  but  a  short  time.  The 
mercliant  was  rotten  at  heart.  All  New  Tfork 
was  astounded  one  day  at  the  report  that  the 
great  railroad  liing  had  become  a  gigantic  de- 
faulter, and  had  absconded.  His  crash  carried 
down  fortunes  and  families  with  his  own.  Com- 
mercial circles  yet  suflfer  for  his  crimes.  The 
courts  are  still  fretted  with  suits  between  great 
corporations  and  individuals  growing  out  of 
these  transaotious.  Fashionable  New  York, 
which  could  overlook  twenty  years  of  criminal 
life,  could  not  excuse  poverty.  It  took  reprisals 
for  brmgiug  this  family  into  social  position  bv 
hurling  it  bank  into  au  obscurity  from  which 
probably  it  will  never  emerge. 

liODOISOS    IN    A   TESEMENT   HODSE. 

A  few  summers  ago  a  lady  of  New  York  reigned 
an  a  belle  at  Saratoga.  Her  elegant  and  numer- 
»ii  dresses,  valuable  diamonds,  and  dashing 
t  iriiDUt  attra/Ued  great  attention.  Her  husband 
waH  a  quiet  sort  of  a  mau,  attending  closely  to 
bis  business.  Ho  came  to  Saratoga  on  Saturdays, 
and  returned  early  on  Monday  morning.  The 
lady  led  a  gay  life,  was  the  center  of  attraction, 
patronized  the  plays,  and  was  eagerly  sought  as 
b  partner  at  the  balls.  After  a  very  brilliant  and 
gay  season  she  disappeared  from  fashionable 
life,  and  was  soon  forgotten.  One  cold  season  a 
benuvolenc  New  York  lady  visited  a  tenement 
house  on  an  errand  of  mercy.  Mistaking  the 
door  to  which  she  was  directed,  she  knocked  at 
a  corresponding  one  on  another  storv.  The 
door  was  opened  by  a  female,  who  looked  on  the 
Ttsitor  for  an  instant,  and  then  suddenly  closed 
the  door.  The  lady  was  satisfied  that  she  had 
Been  the  womiin  somewhere,  and  thinking  she 
might  afford  aid  to  a  needy  person,  she  persist- 
ently knocked  at  the  door  till  it  was  opened. 
Judge  of  her  surprise  when  she  found  that  the 
occupant  of  that  room,  in  that  tenement  house, 
was  the  dashing  belle  whom  she  had  met  a  sea- 
Bon  or  two  before  at  the  Springs!  In  one  room 
herself  and  husband  lived,  in  a  building  overrun 
with  occupants,  crowded  with  children,  dirt  and 
tnrbulonoo.  Mortification  and  suffering,  blend- 
ed with  poverty,  in  a  few  months  had  done  the 
work  of  years  on  that  comely  face.  Her  story 
was  the  old  one  repeated  a  thousand  times.  Re- 
verses, liko  a  torrent,  suddenly  swept  away  a 
lar^e  fortune.  Her  husband  became  discouraged, 
disconsolate,  and  refused  to  try  again.  He  lost 
his  self-respect,  took,  to  the  bowl  and  became  a 
drunkard.  The  wile  followed  him  step  by  step 
in  his  descent,  from  his  high  place  among  the 
merchautd  to  his  home  among  the  dissolute.  To 
furnish  herself  and  husband  with  bread,  she 
parted  with  her  drosses,  jewels  and  personal 
effects.  She  pointed  to  a  heap  in  the  corner, 
covered  with  rags,  and  that  was  all  that  remaiuea 
of  a  princely  inerchanti 

PERILS   or   SPECnLATION. 

The  speculating  mania  which  pervades  New 
York  is  one  of  the  rocks  in  the  channel  on  which 
BO  many  strike  and  founder.  Shrewd,  enter- 
prising men,  who  are  engaged  in  successful  busi- 
ness, are  induced  to  make  investments  in  stocks 
and  operations  of  various  kmds,  and  are  thus  at 
the  mercy  of  sharpers.  Their  balance  in  the 
bank  is  well  known.  Speculators  lay  snares  for 
theui,  and  catch  them  with  guile.  A  man  makes 
money  in  a  business  ho  understands,  and  loses 
it  in  one  he  knows  nothing  about.  One  is  a  suc- 
cessful merchant,  and  he  imagines  he  can  be  a 
Buccossful  broker;  one  stands  at  the  head  of  the 
bar,  and  ho  thinks  ho  can  lead  the  Stock  Board. 
Ho  is  a  broker;  ho  adds  to  it  an  interest  in  rail- 
road* or  steamboats.  Men  have  a  few  thousand 
dollars  that  they  do  not  need  at  present  in  their 
business.  They  arc  easily  enticed  into  a  liltie 
Bp*«nl3tion  by  which  they  may  make  their  for- 
iu>io.  They  get  in  a  little  way,  and  to  save  what 
they  have  invested  they  advance  more.     They 


continue  in  this  course  until  their  outside  ven- 
tures rum  their  legitimate  business.  Stock  com- 
panies, patent  medicines,  patent  machineB,  oil 
wells,  and  copper  stocks  have  carried  down  thou- 
sands of  reputed  millionaires,  with  bankers, 
brokers,  and  dry  goods  men,  who  have  been 
duped  by  xinprincipled  schemers.  Fortunes 
made  by  tact,  diligence,  and  shrewdness,  are 
lost  by  an  insane  desire  to  make  fifty  or  one  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  in  a  day.  The  mania  for 
gambling  in  trade  marks  much  of  the  bnsiuess  of 
New  York.  The  stock  and  gold  gambling  has 
brought  to  the  surface  a  set  of  men  new  to  the 
city.  The  stock  business,  which  was  once  m  the 
hands  of  the  most  substantial  and  respectable  of 
our  citizens,  is  now  controlled  by  men  desperate 
and  reckless.  Any  man  who  can  command  fifty 
dollars  becomes  a  broker.  These  men  know 
no  hours  and  no  laws.  Early  and  late  they  are 
on  the  ground.  No  gamesters  are  more  desper- 
ate or  more  suddenly  destroyed.  The  daily  re- 
verses in  Wall  Street  exceed  any  romance  that 
has  been  written.  A  millionaire"  leaves  his  pa- 
latial residence  in  the  morning,  and  goes  home 
at  night  a  ruined  man.  It  is  a  common  thing  for 
speculators  who  can  afford  it,  to  draw  checks  of 
from  fifty  to  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  to 
make  up  their  losses  in  a  single  day. 

A  mau  rides  up  to  Central  Park  one  afternoon 
with  his  dashing  equipage;  his  wife  and  proud 
daughters  whirl  the  dust  in  the  eyes  of  well-to- 
do  citizens  who  are  on  foot.  The  next  day  this 
fine  team  and  elegant  mansion,  with  store  full  of 
goods,  go  into  the  hands  of  his  creditors.  He 
sends  his  family  into  the  country,  and  either  dis- 
appears himself,  or  is  seen  on  tlie  outskirts  of  the 
crowd  waiting  for  something  to  turn  up.  The 
reckless  mode  of  doing  business  leads  to  a  reck- 
less style  of  living,  extravagance  and  dissipation, 
which  no  legitimate  business  can  support.  The 
mania  touches  all  classes.  Women  and  minis- 
ters are  not  exempt.  One  pastor  m  this  city  is  a 
good  specimen  of  the  power  of  this  speculating 
mania.  The  demon  got  possession  of  him.  He 
made  a  little  money.  He  started  to  make  five 
thousand.  He  moved  the  figure  ahead  to  the  lit- 
tle sum  of  a  quarter  of  a  million.  The  business 
transformed  the  man.  His  face  became  haggard; 
his  eyes  dilated;  his  hair  disheveled;  he  could 
not  sleep;  he  bought  all  the  editions  of  the 
papers;  got  up  nights  to  buy  extras;  chased  the 
l>oy8  round  the  corners  for  the  latest  news;  was 
early  at  the  stock  market,  and  among  the  last  to 
leave  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  at  night  when  the 
board  closes  its  late  session.  Whether  a  quarter 
of  a  million  is  worth  what  it  costs,  this  gentle- 
man can  tell  when  he  gets  it.  A  lady  in  tins  city 
came  from  New  England.  She  was  the  child  of 
a  sailmaker,  and  was  brought  up  in  humble  cir- 
cumstances. A  wealthy  man,  wlioso  repute  was 
not  high,  and  whose  disposition  was  not  amiable, 
offered  her  his  hand.  She  did  not  expect  love, 
nor  hardly  respect,  but  ho  offered  her  instead  a 
coach,  an  elegant  mansion,  and  costly  jewels. 
8ho  found  herself  suddenly  elevated.  She  lived 
in  commanding  style,  with  her  furniture,  plate, 
and  servants.  She  bore  her  elevation  badlv,  and 
looked  down  with  scorn  upon  her  old  friends  and 
associates.  Her  husband  engaged  de«plv  in 
speculation;  it  proved  a  ruinous  one.  To  lielp 
himself  out  of  a  crisis  he  committed  forgery. 
He  was  sent  to  the  State  Prison.  His  great  estab- 
lishment was  seized.  Her  house  was  sold  over 
her  head  by  the  sheriff.  Her  jewels,  valued  at 
fifteen  thousand  dollars,  were  spirited  awav,  and 
she  never  saw  them  more.  She  was  suddenly 
elevated,  and  as  sudilenly  hurled  down  to  the 
position  from  which  she  had  been  taken. 

HONESTI    LEADS. 

The  men  who  are  the  capitalists  of  New  York 
to-day  are  not  the  sons  of  the  wealthy  or  suc- 
cessful merchants  of  the  city.  Tliey"  are  men 
whoso  lathers  were  porters,  wood-choppers,  and 
coal-heavers.  They  did  the  hard  work,  swept 
out  the  stores,  made  the  fires,  used  the  marking- 
pot,  were  kicked  and  cuffed  about,  and  suffered 
every  hardship.  But  they  jostled  and  outran 
the  pampered  son  of  their  employer,  and  carried 
oft' the  prize.  The  chief  end  of  man  is  not  to 
make  money.  But  if  one  imagines  that  it  is,  and 
that  a  fortune  must  be  made  at  once,  then  he 
wdl  barter  the  solid  ground  for  the  mirage,  and 
leave  a  successful  business  for  the  glittering 
morass;  trade  that  insures  a  handsome  compe- 
tence for  wild  speculati'^Q.  The  hands  on  the 
dial  plate  ol  industry  will  stand  still  while  men 
grasp  at  shadows. 

In  New  York,  two  kinds  of  business  greet  a 
comer,  one  bad,  the  other  good;  one  easy  to  get; 
the  other  hard;  the  one  pays  at  the  start,  tho 
other  pays  but  little;  perhaps  the  position  itself 
must  be  "paid  for.  If  one  wants  money,  saj's  he 
has  his  fortune  to  make  snd  cannot  wait,  he  will 


take  what  turns  up,  and  wait  for  better  time«. 
Disreputable  trade,  questionable  btisiness,  i 
tricky  house,  a  saloon  or  a  bar-room,  are  open 
to  a  reputable  young  man,  and  if  he  have  a  dash 
of  piety,  all  tlie  better.  But  such  touch  pitch 
and  are  defiled;  they  seldom  lose  the  taint  of  the 
first  business  in  which  they  are  engaged.  Men 
can  be  good  or  bad  in  any  trade.  They  can  he 
sound  lawyers  or  pettifoggers;  a  merchant  of 
property  or  a  mock  auctioneer;  a  physician 
whose  skill  and  character  endear  him  to  the  bent 
families  in  the  land,  or  a  doctor  whose  "  sauJs 
of  life  have  almost  run  out;"  a  preacher  who 
says,  "  Woe  is  me  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel,"  or 
a  minister  who,  like  some  in  the  olden  time, 
said,  "  Put  me,  I  pray  thee,  into  the  priest's 
office,  that  I  may  get  me  a  morsel  ot  bread." 
There  is  no  permanent  success  without  integrity, 
industry,  and  talent. 

In  trade  there  are  two  codes  that  govern  men. 
The  one  is  expressed  in  the  mottoes,  "  All  is  fair 
in  trade;  "  "Be  as  honest  as  the  times  will  al- 
low; "  "  If  you  buy  the  devil,  you  must  sell  him 
again."  The  other  acts  on  business  principles; 
sells  a  sound  horse  for  a  sound  price;  gives  the 
customer  the  exact  article  that  he  buys.  The 
few  houses  that  have  been  successful,  amid  an 
almost  universal  crash,  have  been  houses  which 
have  done  business  on  principle.  In  cases 
where  honorable  tradesmen  .  .ave  been  obliged 
to  suspend,  they  are  Minister  of  Babylon.  Some 
of  these  men  went  from  the  store  to  compete  with 
the  ablest  statesmen  of  the  world.  Some  left 
their  patients  on  a  sick  bed  to  measure  swords 
with  veteran  commanders  on  the  battle-field. 
They  met  on  the  seas  naval  oflScers  of  highest 
rank,  and  made  them  haul  down  their  flags  to 
the  new  banner  of  our  nation.  They  eounded 
out  freedom  in  the  Declaration  of  lndepen<Ji>nce; 
the  bugle-call  rang  over  hill  and  dale,  crossed 
oceans  and  continents,  into  dungeons,  and  made 
tyrants  tremble  in  their  palace  homes — building 
a  nation  that  no  treason  could  ruin  and  no  for- 
eign foe  destroy.  Like  tho  Eddystone  light- 
house, the  Union,  sometimes  hid  for  a  moment 
by  the  angry  surges,  still  threw  its  steady  light 
on  the  turbulent  waters,  and  guided  the  tempest- 
tossed  into  tho  harbor  where  they  would  be. 

These  Old  School  men  ate  not  a  bit  of  idle 
bread.  They  were  content  with  their  small  store 
and  pine  desk.  They  owned  their  goods,  and 
were  their  own  cashiers,  salesmen,  clerks,  and 
porter.  They  worked  sixteen  hours  a  day,  and 
so  became  millionaires.  They  would  as  soon 
have  committed  forgery  as  to  have  been  mean 
or  unjust  in  trade.  They  made  their  wealth  in 
business,  and  not  in  fraudulent  failure.  They 
secured  their  fortunes  out  of  their  customers, 
and  not  out  of  their  creditors.  Not  so  Young 
America.  He  must  make  a  dash.  Ho  begins 
with  a  brown-stono  store,  filled  with  goods  for 
which  he  has  paid  nothing;  marries  a  dashing 
belle;  delegates  all  the  business  that  he  can  to 
others;  lives  in  style,  and  spends  his  money  be- 
fore ho  gets  it;  keeps  his  fast  horse,  and  other 
appendages  equally  fast;  is  much  at  tho  club- 
room,  on  the  sporting  track,  and  in  billiard  or 
kindred  saloons,  speak  of  his  father  as  the  "old 
governor,"  and  of  his  mother  as  the  "old  wo- 
man;" and  finally  becomes  porter  to  his  clerk, 
and  lackey  to  his  salesman.  Beginning  where 
his  father  left  off,  ho  leaves  off  where  his  father 
began. 

■    »    « 

THE  NIGHT-WATCHMAN'S  EXPERIENCE. 

There  were  signs  of  a  disturbance  in  the  pub- 
lic streets,  wrote  Nathan  D.  timer,  several  years 
ago,  in  the  New  York  Weekly,  but  there  was  no 
crowd  to  witness  it— only  two  policemen,  talk- 
ing together  and  swinging  their  clubs,  at  the  cor- 
ner of  Catherine  street  and  the  Bowery,  and  two 
belated  members  of  the  press— one  whom  I  shall 
call  Frank  Watson  and  myself— were  tho  wit- 
nesses of  tho  scene. 

Two  women,  or  girls— they  were  nothing  more 
in  age -had  issued  in  the  early  daylight,  from 
the  depths  of  a  "lager-beer  concert  saloon,"  as 
it  is  called,  and  stood  upon  the  pavement,  en- 
gaged in  a  windy  and  by  no  means  decent  war  of 
words.  Rival  lovers  was  probably  the  cause. 
At  any  rate,  they  threatened  each  other  with  all 
manner  of  personal  violence,  and,  with  that  mor- 
bid desire  to  see  the  result,  instead  of  prevent- 
ing it,  as  the  Christian  spirit  should  have  prompt- 
ed, we  paused  for  the  result.  We  did  not  have 
to  wait  long  The  mutual  taunts  became  more 
extravagant,  and  every  moment  it  seemed  that 
they  would  come  to  blows.  But  close  to  the 
nea"rer  and  better  appearing  girl,  there  stood  a 
white-faced  woman  robed  in  black,  who  several 
times  endeavored,  unsuccessfully,  it  is  true,  to 
persuade  her  friend  awav  from  tne  encounter. 


THE   GREAT    EMPIRE   CrPY. 


Her  laco  was  eoamed  with  dissipation,  but  tht 
somberuesa  of  her  dress  aud  hor  goueral  de- 
cency of  behavior,  together  with  her  auiiety  to 
carry  her  frieud— probably  hor  sister— away, 
clothed  her  with  a  respect  winch  would  not 
otherwise  have  beeu  granted  hor.  The  coutost- 
.auts  lorgot  the  presence  of  tlio  policeniou  in  their 
passion,  l)Ut  she  did  not,  aud  lier  hands  were  ex- 
tended appealiugly  to  the  <iiiarrcl«omo  twain. 

The  gray  of  morning  was  just  flooding  the 
Ktreet,  and  as  we  stood  awaiting  the  result  a  la- 
borer, with  his  lunch-bucket,  came  aloug,  aud 
also  stopped  beside  us. 

"  8uro,  they're  always  roadv  for  row,  oven  at 
this  time  in  the  morning,"  said  he,  betraying  his 
nationality  iu  his  brogue.  "  Howld  ou  a  miuute, 
and  you'll  see  the  cud  ou  it." 

The  man  of  prophesy  was  rough  and  uncouth, 
but  he  evidently  was  wide  awake.  The  taunts 
grew  fiercer,  the  words  wilder  and  more  lusult- 
iug.  Then  came  the  swift  blow,  the  quick  re- 
apoDse  from  women's  claws,  and  in  auother  in- 
stant the  two  were  battling  like  cats,  scratching, 
tearing,  aud  biting,  as  only  women  can  tight, 
when  they  surrender  their  womauhood  to  that 
extent— and  we  saw  them  rolling  over  iu  the 
mud  of  the  street,  like  cats  entangled  iu  a  rage. 

The  woman  of  the  wliite  face  stood  looking  at 
them  with  a  face  oloquout  with  agony,  and 
wringing  her  bauds. 

"The  two  pohcemen  strolled  up,  laughing,  sepa- 
rated the  contestants,  aud  each  tooK  charge  of 
each,  after  permitting  them  to  regain  possession 
of  their  hats  and  capos,  which  had  been  torn  off 
in  the  struggle.  They  went  away  with  the  offi- 
cers in  a  matter-of-fact  manner,  as  though  they 
were  used  to  it,  aud  with  the  jest  and  yoke  and 
wild  laughter  of  the  depraved  woman.  But  the 
white-faced  woman  in  black  gazed  after  them 
with  an  expression  of  luulu  agouy. 

Aa  thev  turned  the  corner  of  the  street  on  their 
way  to  itie  Oak  Street  Station  House,  ahe  sud- 
denly fell  upon  her  knees  on  the  muddy  pave- 
ment, aud  lifted  her  white  hands  to  Ueaveu  with 
a  despairing  gesture,  which  I  shall  never  banish 
from  my  memory. 

The  iucideut  was  so  startling  and  remarkable 
<hat  I  was  rooted  to  the  spot  with  amazement, 
jut  it  was  only  for  an  instant.  She  suddenly 
aprang  to  her  feet,  and,  as  if  possessed  by  a 
auddeu  desperation,  rushed  down  the  street 
;Catheriao  Street),  and  laded  away  in  the  un- 
certain shadows  of  the  early  morning. 

The  uext  morning— or,  rather,  two  mornings 
thereafter — my  reportorial  business  called  me  to 
a  coroner's  inquest  at  Bellevue  Hospital,  and  a 
casual  interest  led  me  to  inspect  the  damp,  sol- 
emn apartments  of  the  Morgue. 

A  single  corpse  was  exhibited  upon  the  marble 
trestles  of  that  mournful  institution.  I  started 
back  at  first  aa  I  beheld  it,  and  then  grew  to  the 
sight  with  a  fascination  which  I  could  not  ex- 
plain to  my  own  mind.  The  solitary  corpse  was 
that  of  the  white-faced  woman  in  black  who  had 
knelt  in  the  public  streets  in  the  gray  of  the  pre- 
ceding morn.  Her  face  was  even  whiter  tlian 
then,  and  her  form  had  settled  quietly  into  the 
mold  of  death;  but  the  remembrance  of  that  last 
look  of  appeal  to  Heaven  from  the  upturned 
eyes,  aud  of  those  trembling  upraieed  handa  to 
the  sky,  haunted  me  strangely  and  fearfully  as  I 
rushed  away  from  the  apartments  of  nameless 
sorrow. 

"  Nameless  here  forever  more." 

****** 

"  Yea,  that  is  rather  interesting,"  said  a  night- 
watchman,  to  whom  I  related  the  preceding 
story  shortly  after  it  occurred;  "  but  I  have  hau 
experiences  which,  as  far  as  facts  are  concerned, 
beat  that  all  to  nothing.  1  have  beeu  a  night- 
watchman  on  this  Uook — Catherine  Street— for 
eighteen  years,  and,  not  naturally  a  sound  sleep- 
er, my  eyes  and  ears  have  been  open  to  many 
strange  things." 

He  then  told  me  the  story  of  "  Lady  Jane," 
which  I  give  iu  my  own  lauguage,  iu  preference 
to  hia  because  of  my  superior  understanding  in 
the  use  of  words. 

"  Lady  Jane "  lived  with  a  fire-boy  named 
"  Jakey "  in  a  Baxter  Street  tenement,  and 
helped  to  keep  the  domestic  pot  boiling  by  ped- 
dling cheap  chiuaware,  which  she  usually  ex- 
changed for  old  clothing  and  dilapidated  hats. 
Jakey  was  a  rough  of  the  very  worst  sort,  and 
often  beat  her  cruelly,  besides  chaatiaing  her  lit- 
tle boy — a  poor  fouudling  of  about  eleven  years 
— in  the  most  brutal  manner;  but  the  woman  al- 
ways managed  to  keep  herself  so  neatly  clad 
that  she  generally  went  by  the  name  of  "  Lady 
Jane  "  iu  the  wretched  neighborhood  in  which 
she  lived. 

No  one  could  understand  why  she  continued 
to  live  with  a  man  who  uniformly  treated  her  so 
bad'y   ;i.8  ilid  JiiUey,  anil    wha,  lioside   boi'ig  a 


drunkard  and  a  thief,  was  one  of  the  moat  worth- 
less ruffians  of  his  class.  I'lirhapa  it  waa  after 
all  that  strange  and  mysterioiia  growth  of  Love, 
which  in  happier  days  had  put  forth  its  delicate 
but  iiuniutable  tendrils,  aud  cemented  the  union 
which  neither  adversity  nor  ill-treatment  could 
dissever;  but  at  any  rate  she  lived  with  him  for 
years,  and  ever  atood  up  couragooualy  between 
Lim  aud  defamers.  It  was  only  when  bo  tried 
to  make  a  thief  of  her  boy  that  the  latent  paasion 
of  her  nature  was  aroused  to  a  sturdy  resist- 
auco,  which  no  abuse  could  trample  under  foot. 

The  boy  hiiiisolf  was  none  too  good,  but  she 
worked  her  fingers  sore  and  walked  her  poor 
feet  tired  to  keep  him  at  the  district  school  and 
out  of  mischief ;  and  the  solitary  nobility  of  the 
child's  character  waa  the  absorbing  love  with 
which  ho  repaid  this  tenderness  and  solicitude. 

"  My  '  beat '  had  included  JJaxtor  Street  f*i'  a 
number  of  years,"  said  my  informant,  "  and  I 
was  perfectly  acquainted  with  both  Lady  Jane 
and  Jakey.  I  knew  the  latter  to  be  no  mor'n  a 
brute,  and  would  mor'n  onco  have  arrested  him 
for  his  cruelty  toward  her  if  ahe  hadn't  prayed 
BO  hard  for  him.  But,  after  a  bit,  when  ho  made 
such  a  dead  set  to  make  a  pickpocket  of  her 
young  one,  she  used  to  como  to  mo  often,  and 
ask  my  advice  with  the  big  tears  starting  from 
her  poor  blue  eyes,  till  I  felt  half  inclined  to 
snivel  myself.  But  all  she  could  do  waa  no 
good,  and  the  mean-hearted  villain  succeeded  at 
last." 

One  night— it  waa  a  wild  and  atormy  night — 
Lady  Jano  came  to  the  night-watchman  in  a  high 
state  of  excitement.  She  had  the  appearance  of 
not  having  alept  for  many  daya,  and  her  look 
waa  haggard  and  distressed  in  the  extreme. 
Sho  had  not  seen  her  boy  for  over  a  week.  Jakey 
waa  laboring  under  a  fit  of  delirium  tremens, 
and  either  would  not  or  could  not  give  her  any 
information  concerning  him.  The  night-watch- 
man could  have  given  a  truthful  account,  in  ex- 
planation, but  his  heart  was  too  tender  for  the 
task.  Ho  waa  addressing  some  soothing  words 
to  the  poor  woman,  when  an  inconsiderate  neigh- 
bor— Baxter  Street  neighbors,  by  the  way,  are 
never  very  considerate  -came  up,  and  blundered 
out  the  truth  with  cruel  bluntuess. 

"  Never  mind.  Lady  Jane,"  said  he,  "  the  boy 
is  probably  better  off  w^here  he  ia,  and  it  may 
prove  the  lesson  of  a  life-time." 

"  Where — where  is  he  ?  "  she  cried,  with  such 
a  sharp,  agonizing  inquisition  in  her  tone  that 
the  man  started  back  confusedly. 

She  bent  her  wild  glance  on  the  honest  fare  of 
tlie  watchman,  who  could  no  longer  disguise  his 
knowledge. 

"  You  might  as  well  know  everything  at  once," 
said  he.  "Jimmy  picked  an  old  gentleman's 
pocket  on  the  Third  Avenue  cars  ten  days  ago, 
and  was  sent  to  the  Island  for  three  months." 

The  woman  started  back  as  if  ahe  had  received 
a  blow. 

"  To  the  Island — to  the  Island!" 

Slie  had  probably  heard  the  term  with  the  ut- 
moMl  indifference  many  times  before.  The  lad 
for  whom  her  mother's  nature  so  yearningly 
reached  out  was.  by  the  very  circumstances  of 
his  birth,  most  Tikely  a  reproach  to  her.  She 
herself  was,  perhaps,  fallen  lower  than  most  of 
us  can  conceive;  but  all  that  was  left  of  the  an- 
gel in  her  soul,  every  lingering  element  of  virtu- 
ous womanhood  was"  centered  in  and  bound  up 
in  the  life  of  the  young  reprobate. 

"  To  the  Island — to  the  Island! "  she  continued 
repeating  wildly,  aa  if  ahe  could  only  partially 
comprehend  its  meaning. 

"Come  home,  you  jade!"  exclaimed  a  rough 
voice  behind  her,  and,  turning,  she  beheld  the 
unkempt  person  of  her  brutal  mate,  with  hia 
hand  raiaed  threateningly. 

But  in  those  few  momenta  her  entire  nature 
had  undergone  a  great  transformation,  and  fear 
gave  place  to  indignation  aud  fury. 

"  Wretch!  hound! "'  she  screamed.  "  Toti  sent 
him  there!  The  curse  of  a  whole  life  of  crime 
will  rest  upon  your  head.  But  do  not  think  that 
you  can  keep  him  away  from  me!  Curse  you, 
"curse  you,  curse  you! " 

He  quickly  recovered  from  the  shock  of  her 
first  vehemence,  and  advanced  toward  her  men- 
acingly, but  she  struck  him  fiercely  on  the  cheek, 
and  Mien  fled  up  the  dark  street  like  a  spectre. 

It  was  already  late;  the  storm  was  increasing, 
and  she  was  penniless;  but  her  poor,  worn  heart 
waa  filled  with  an  aimless  idea  that  sho  must  be 
nearer  her  boy.  She  walked  on  iu  the  dreni'h- 
ing  rain,  aud  reached  the  river's  edge  at  the  foot 
of  Sixtieth  Street  just  as  the  dawn  was  breaking 
dimly  and  redly  through  the  storm.  She  could 
see  the  long,  narrow  outline  of  BlackweU's  Isl- 
and immediately  opposite,  with  its  numerous 
public  buildings.  "There  was  a  small  boat-land- 
111..,-  and  I'll  r  in:ir  llio  i)oiiit  \v!ii-n,'  win-  came  upcii 


the  river's  brink,  aud  ahe  moved  in  a  nervona, 
purpoaclesB  manner  among  the  boat-chains,  as 
they  clanked  and  jingled  iu  the  turbulence  of  the 
atream. 

And  now  it  waa  that  a  strange  coincidence — 
strango  and  unuHual  in  any  life-time — occurred 
in  tlio  experience  of  this  pjor  woman,  which 
hardly  seems  real  when  one  reads  it  in  print. 

While  she  was  thiia  luovinj^  aimlessly  and 
nervously  among  the  boats,  with  Heaven  only 
knows  how  many  wild  tliouglits  going  out  over 
tho  waters  to  the  kindred  spirit  imprisijued  on 
the  inland  beyond,  there  was  to  bo  seen  an  un- 
usual commotion  upon  that  very  island.  The 
morning  gleamed  but  dimly,  hut  lanterns  were 
to  bo  seen  flashing  hern  and  there,  and  jireseut- 
ly  shots  were  fired.  Lady  Jane  strained  her 
eyes  through  the  fog,  but  could  make  nothing 
out.  Some  boatmen  strayed  down  to  the  littlo 
pier,  and  manitestod  interest.  She  asked  the 
moaning  of  the  novelty.  They  looked  at  her 
draggled  dress  and  generally  wretched  aiipear- 
anco,  and  scarcely  deigned  a  reply;  but  the  fact 
waa  that  some  prisoners  were  endeavoring  to 
escape  from  the  Island  Penitentiary,  and  the 
guards  were  firing  at  those  who  had  got  outside 
the  prison  walls. 

A  wild,  strange  hope  had  sprung  up  in  the 
poor  woman's  heart,  and  she  haunted  the  very 
verge  of  the  river,  like  a  doubtful  dream. 

Tlie  fo^  cleared  and  the  newly-risen  sun  be- 
gan to  shine  broadly  and  brightly  on  the  waters. 
Two  convicts — she  could  easily  distinguish  them 
in  their  striped  prison-garb— were  in  a  boat,  and 
rowing  to  tho  marshy  New  York  side  most  ener- 
getically. She  saw  the  official  boat  put  off,  and 
capture  them. 

Another  fugitive  waa  in  the  stream,  and  man- 
fully swimming  for  the  Manhattan  shore.  Tho 
tide  was  coming  in,  and  the  waves  were  high, 
from  tho  gale  of  the  preceding  night;  but  she 
caught  oue  glimpse  of  the  swimmer  throiigli  tlio 
ragged  edges  of  the  mist,  that  still  trailed  lightly 
over  the  crests  of  tho  waves,  and  one  glimpse 
was  enough. 

It  was  her  scapegrace  of  a  child,  breasting  the 
broad  river  to  reacli  her  heart.  The  motlier  was 
wild.  It  seemed  to  her  like  a  special  dispensa- 
tion of  Providence  in  her  behalf,  aud  her  imagi- 
nation magnified  the  coincidence  twenty-fold. 
Tho  thought  that  he  would  be  immediately  re- 
captured the  moment  he  landed  never  seemed  to 
enter  her  mind  for  an  instant.  The  present  en- 
grossed her  entire  being.  She  shrieked  encour- 
agement to  him  over  the  waters,  and  waved  her 
bonnet  and  shawl.  She  grasped  a  piece  of  iron 
which  lay  on  the  landing,  and  endeavored  to 
beat  one  of  the  boats  loose  from  ita  fastening. 
She  at  length  succeeded,  and,  before  they  could 
prevent  her,  sprang  in,  seized  a  broken  oar,  and 
pushed  off. 

She  knew  nothing  of  the  management  of  a 
boat,  and  waa  carried  quickly  out  into  the  whirls 
and  eddies  of  the  strong  tide. 

The  boy's  strength  was  rapidly  becoming  ex- 
hausted, though  he  still  buffeted  the  billows 
manfully. 

"  Keep  up,  Jimmy,  keep  up! "  screamed  Lady 
Jane,  while  another" boat  put  off  from  the  shore 
to  the  rescue. 

But  the  boy's  powers  were  spent.  He  gave 
oue  sharp  cry: 

"Mother!  mother!" 

Despair  swept  over  his  brave  face,  and  he 
sank. 

She  was  within  thirty  feet  of  him  at  tho  time; 
and,  with  one  wild  ahriek,  ahe  leaped  over  the 
gunwale  of  the  boat,  and  disappeared  below  the 
surface. 

The  bodies  were  not  recovered  untd  near  the 
close  of  the  same  day,  when  they  were  found 
near  one  of  the  lower  piers,  almost  a  mile  fur- 
ther down  the  stream,  tossing  wildly  about  on 
the  waves,  but  locked  in  a  death-embrace,  which 
the  wind  and  the  waves  could  not  dissever. 

The  man  "Jakey"  was  killed  in  a  street  brawl, 
not  long  afterward,  and  the  above  are  the  facie 
in  the  night-watchman'a  story. 

I  might  have  elaborated  tliem  indefinitely,  but 
they  are  tragic  enough  as  they  stand. 


Fob  the  water  supply  of  New  Y'ork,  an  aque- 
duct 40  miles  long,  costing  $.30,000,000,  poura 
into  reservoirs  60,000,000  gallons  daily.  The 
total  length  of  the  Croton  main  pipes  is  over  313 
miles.  Tlie  water  is  supplied  to  6(5,925  buildings 
occupied  as  dwellings  and  stores,  1,617  factories, 
and  307  churches;  and  the  yearly  amount  paid 
for  water  rent  is  $1,319,544. 


Or  the  7,000,000  Jews  in  the  world,  70,000  •'?Te 

i:i  New  Y..lV. 


3.~» 
o 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


KSAB  FIVE  FOIKTa. 


POVERTY,  CaiUE,  AND  DISEASE  IN  NEW 
YOEK. 


New  York  contains  above  a  million  of  inhabit- 
ants, of  whom,  as  in  overy  other  great  city,  the 
majority  are  poor.  But  in  no  Christian  commu- 
nity in  ihe  world,  probably,  are  the  working  peo- 
ple BO  inconvenienced  by  crowding  and  conse- 
quent and  inevitable  association  with  social  out- 
casts, which,  of  course,  affords  a  potent  tempta- 
tion to  their  own  evil  doing.  The  inhabitants  of 
healthful  country  homes,  who  have  not  inspected 
any  great  cjty  with  a  searching  observation,  can 
form  but  an  inadequate  conception  of  what  comes 
under  the  eye  of  a  resident  in  this  metropolis, 
led  by  curiosity  or  a  better  motive  of  philan- 
thropy, to  walk  into  streets  and  alleys,  almost 
crowded  with  dirty,  noisy  children;  into  un- 
savory alleys,  and  up  narrow  stair-cases  into 
miserable  apartments,  where  people  are  huddled 
together  without  regard  to  health  or  decency. 
Our  illustrations  give  representations  of  the  mis- 
ery and  vice  of  such  quarters,  whicti  serve,  per- 


haps better  than  any  verbal 
description  would  do,  to  im- 
press upon  the  mind  of  those 
who  tiave  not  seen  for  them- 
aelves,  under  what  circum- 
Btances  the  poor  of  New  York 
live. 

Who  can  wonder  that  such 
physical  conditions  should 
be  largely  associated  with 
moral  degradation,  and 
should  foster  it  ?  There  are, 
doubtless,  in  Baxter  Street 
and  the  Five  Points  and  simi- 
lar neighborhoods,  many 
persons  who,  spite  of  adverse 
influences,  contrive  to  live 
an  honorable  life.  Such  de- 
serve all  praise.  But  we 
blush  for  the  Empire  City 
that  such  a  record  as  we  arc 
about  to  cite,  disgraces  its 
history. 

In  nineteen  years  there 
were  in  New  York  881  re- 
corded homicides,  of  which 
679  were  committed  by  per- 
sons known,  but  not  in  every 
instance  punished,  and  202 
were  committed  by  persons 
unknown  and  never  arrest- 
ed. There  are  in  New  York 
about  3,000  professional 
thieves,  including  bank  rob- 
bers, burglars,  dwelling- 
house  and  chance  sneaks, 
panel  thieves,  forgers,  shop- 
lifters, pickpockets,  confi- 
dence men  and  receivers  of 
stolen  goods.  The  casual 
thieves  are  more  numerouH 
but  less  daring,  rapacious 
and  successful.  All  the 
thieves  are  estimated,  from 
sources  more  trustworthy 
than  the  records  kept  in 
Mulberry  Street,  to  steal  $6,- 
500,000  yearly.  The  police 
claim  to  restore  to  the  owners 
about  $2,560,000  worth  of 
property  a  year;  though 
much  of  the  property  thus 
reported  has  oeen  lost  in- 
stead of  stolen.  Crediting 
the  whole  of  it  as  recovered 
from  thieves,  there  is  still 
left  to  the  latter  and  their 
"  fences  "  a  revenue  of  t3.- 
940,000  directlv  extracted 
from  the  wealth  of  private 
citizens.  But  this  is  not  all 
the  thieves  cost  to  the  city. 
The  police  and  criminal  ju- 
dicial estAblishments,  which 
they  render  ueceBsarn^re 
supported  at  an  expe^R  of 
$3,212,000  more.  This  runs 
up  the  co^  of  the  criminal 
and  disorderly  claesea  to  $7- 
000,000  a  year. 

The  breeding-places  of 
murderers,  thieves,  forgers 
and  criminals  of  every  grade 
are:  first,  vicious  homes; 
second,  liquor  saloons;  third, 
lottery  and  policy  shops; 
fourth,  gambling  hells,  and 
filth,  houses  of  prostitution. 
Vicious  homes  in  the  poor 
dietricta  of  the  city  are  not 
more  certain  to  send  forth  the  juvenile  vaga- 
bonds, pilferers  and  ruffians,  who  swarm  in  our 
alleys,  and  are  only  partly  gathered  at  the  pub- 
lic e"xpense  into  industrial  schools  and  penitenti- 
aries, than  are  vicious  homes  in  the  rich  districts 
to  prepare  indulged  or  neglected  children  for  a 
later  career  of  infamy.  The  heel-taps  swallowed 
bv  a  profligate's  son  after  his  father's  debauch  at 
table,  and  the  sips  of  gin  stolen  by  a  gutter-snipe 
from  his  drunken  mother's  jug,  alike  beget  the 
thirst  for  stimulants  which  leads  the  young 
straight  to  saloons  and  rum-holes.  From  saloons 
and  rum-holes  to  brothels,  low  dance-houses, 
faro-dens,  keno-cellars,  thieves'  haunts  and  rat- 
pits  is  an  eaev  descent. 

Eight  thousand  places  are  licensed  for  the  sale 
of  liquors.  Most  of  them  dispense  the  vilest 
poisons.  Many  are  music-halls,  worse  than  the 
old  Broadway  concert-saloons,  and  frequented 
by  the  same  class  of  scapegraces  who  were 
ruined  in  those  glittering  aens.  To  some  are 
attached  small  (rambling-rooms,  where  scores  of 
habitual  criminals  and  vagrants  gather  nightly 
to  prey  upon  one  another  and  concoct  all  man- 


ner of  deviltries.  At  night  the  windows  of  these 
places  have  the  fascination  of  basilisk's  eyes  to 
thousands  upon  thousands  of  the  restless,  tliirsty, 
discontented  poor.  Some  have  money  to  buv'a 
pint  or  a  glass  of  the  stuff  in  bottles  labeled  be- 
fore them,  but  can  illy  afford  it.  Others  have 
not  enough  to  pay  for  'a  night's  lodging.  Upon 
this  multitude  descends  the  terrible  temptation 
to  steal  that  they  may  drink — that  they  may  buy 
an  hour  or  two  of  blmd  forgetfulness.  fivery 
day's  arrests  show  part  of  the  direct  results  of 
this  temptation.  If  Mayhew's  estimate  be  cor- 
rect, that  intoxicating  liquors  are  an  agent  in 
three-fourths  of  the  crimes  committed  in  large 
cities,  then  the  effects  of  bad  liquor  and  of  long- 
ing for  bad  liquor  in  New  York  City  are,  accord- 
ing to  the  pohce  statistics,  something  fearful. 
Of  the  84,514  arrests  in  one  year,  including  63  for 
homicide,  459  for  burglary.'Sl  for  arson,  67  for 
forgery,  119  for  highway  robbery,  1,503  for  grand 
larceny,  3G  for  robbery,  the  rest  for  every  kind 
of  criminal  offences,  nearly  70,000  were  trace- 
able to  persons  more  or  less  badly  addicted  to 
drink. 

Bum  as  a  direct  agent  in  the  production  of 
criminals  finds  its  chiet  rivals,  or  rather  its  prin- 
cipal co-partners,  in  the  gambhng-hcUs,  lottery- 
offices  and  policy-shops.  There  are  in  the  city 
more  than  700  places  where  gambling  is  con- 
ducted and  lottery  and  policy  tickets  are  sold. 
Gambhng-houses  of  different  grades  are  fre- 
quented by  rich  or  well-to-do  men,  adventurers, 
dupes  and  flush  thieves.  Their  patrons  are 
comparatively  few,  and  though  they  help  many 
foolish  or  desperate  youngsters  on  to  ruin,  ther 
are  almost  harmless  when  set  in  the  nckle  with 
lotteries  and  policies.  At  faro,  roulette,  rouge- 
et-noir,  monte,  or  even  keno,  there  is  some 
chance  for  the  player  to  win  his  money  back.  A 
lottery  or  a  pohcy'shop  affords  but  the  ghost  of 
a  chance,  which  is,  however,  sought  daily  by 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  deluded  people.  The 
lotteries,  drawn  in  Havana,  in  Kentucky,  and 
elsewhere,  offer  fractions  of  tickets  to  all  persons 
who  can  afford  to  invest  $2  to  $20.  This  seduces 
a  large  middle  class,  and  a  host  of  clerks,  me- 
chanics and  domestic  servants,  both  male  and 
female.  The  policy  dealers  strike  lower  down 
into  the  very  substratum  of  the  community.  Any 
one  may  play  policy  in  any  way  and  "for  any 
amount  he  cnooses— from  five  cents  up  to  five 
dollars.  This  attracts  laborers  at  the  lowest 
wages  in  every  department  of  industry;  nearly 
the  whole  population  of  poor  negroes;  tiio  lowest 
grade  of  tenement-house  denizens,  half-starved 
seamstresses,  poor  wretches  reduced  almost  to 
beggary.  It  makes  no  difference  that  the  schemes 
held  out  are  fraudulent  on  their  faces;  that  the 
chance  of  drawing  the  lowest  promised  prize  is 
one  in  a  hundred  thousand;  that  the  buyer  of  a 
ticket  or  a  fraction  of  a  ticket  has  no  security 
and  no  proof  that  drawings  are  really  had,  or,  if 
had,  are  fair;  that  no  one  is  known  except  by 
rumor  to  have  ever  drawn  a  prize.  The  lure  in 
so  much  the  more  dazzling,  font  is  in  the  nature 
of  the  credulous  and  eager  crowds  who  buy  the 
tickets  to  believe  every  one  his  own  chance  to 
be  the  better,  because  the  capital  prize  has  not 
yet  been  won!  Weak  men  who  have  faith  in 
their  luck;  sharpers  who  believe  in  their  cunning; 
lazy  men  who  hunger  for  riches  without  labor; 
avaricious  men  who  seek  to  add  at  small  risk  to 
their  big  or  Uttle  hoards;  sensitive  men  whose 
family  expenses  are  running  them  into  debt;  im- 
pressionaule  and  superstitious  men;  blunt  and 
shabby  inebriates;  and  then  the  vast  army  of  the 
lower  classes  iwho  are  always  trembling  on  the 
verge  of  starvation,  always  familiar  with  misery 
and  crime  —  these  support  the  policy-shops. 
Numbers  of  them  become  policy-drunk.  As  rich 
men  spend  thousands  a  year  in  gambling  and 
the  Wall  Street  lotteries,  so  members  of  the  mid- 
dle class  sacrifice  their  incomes  by  hundreds, 
and  poor  men  their  all,  in  the  vain  chase  after 
prizes  that  are  never  paid.  Families  are  robbed 
of  food  and  clothmg,  store-tills  are  rifled  by 
clerks;  girls  try  their  hands  at  shop-lifting,  boys 
at  picking  pockets  and  men  at  picking  locks,  that 
policvmav  be  played  again.  Every  year  $1,500,- 
000  IS  withdrawn  from  productive  industry  and 
sunk  in  lotteries  and  policy-shops,  and  every 
year,  too,  more  crimes  and  more  criminals  out- 
crop from  this  infernal  trade. 

Rum  and  Policy!  Eight  thousand  gin-millM 
and  seven  huudre"d  policy-phops!  These  make 
yearly  one  hundred  thousand  offenders  against 
the  laws.  "Break  up  the  gin-mills,  or  at  least 
break  up  all  of  them  that  do  not  deal  in  the 
purest,  most  expensive  liquors,  and  extirpate  the 
pohcy  men,"  said  recently  a  judge  who  ought  to 
know  as  much  of  the  criminal  classes  as  any  man 
among  us,  "  and  you  kill  off  three-fourths  of  the 
crime  in  New  Y'ork." 

Who  are  the  policy  men  ?    It  is  easy  to  find  out 


THEGRKAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


37 


the  policy  dealers.  The  police,  who  suffer  them 
to  deal  despite  the  law,  know  them  well,  and 
any  citizen  who  chooses  to  inquire  in  his  ward 
may  know  them.  But  who  are  the  "  men  "  who 
furnish  tlie  capital  of  about  $2,000,000  which  is 
necessary  to  the  carrying  on  of  the  busmess— to 
pay  rents,  printing  bills,  occasional  catch-prizes: 
to  keep  the  whole  Police  Department's  hands  off 
their  trade,  and  hands  on  the  trade  of  rival  deal- 
ers to  suppress  it;  to  influence  judges,  and  blind- 
fold the  District-Attorney's  office,  and  make  the 
statutes  against  gambhng  mere  mockeries  and 
shams  ?  Who  form  this  powerful  combination, 
which  monopohzes,  right  under  the  noses  of  our 
respectability,  the  most  monstrous,  the  most  ne- 
farious, and  the  most  profitable  traffic  except  the 
liquor  traffic,  in  New  York  ?  From  their  spoil 
here  in  open  day  hundreds  of  flash  equipages 
and  notorious  women  are  supported.  Besides 
the  5,000  or  6,000  harlots  hving  in  houses  of  ill- 
fame  and  using  houses  of  assignation,  others  are 
sustained  in  luxurious  apartments,  every  one  at 
the  expense  of  a  dozen  frugal  families.  The 
temptation  to  vice  which  these  splendid  instances 
of  fortune  hold  out  to  many  young  women  is  so 
potent  that  year  alter  year  there  occur  disap- 


A   TEiNKMK.NT    H(MSE. 

pearances  of  daughters  from  respectable  homes 
which  are  never  reported  lor  the  press,  and 
which  the  police  are  paid  by  parents  as  well  as 
by  procurers  for  keeping  secret. 

Deprivation,  crowding  and  vice  produce  dis- 
ease, and  we  sometimes  wonder  if  any  one  thinks 
how  many  sick  people  the  city  contains.  Such 
an  inquiry  would  liardly  bo  suggested  by  the 
stream  of  human  life  which  fills  the  street.  It 
were,  indeed,  hard  to  believe  that  there  is  a 
sufficient  number  of  invalids  here  to  equal  the 
population  of  many  good  liized  cities.  One  rea- 
son for  this  vast  number  is  that  we  not  only  liave 
the  victims  of  local  disease,  but  also  nuillitndea 
who  come  to  bo  treated  for  maladies  beyond  the 
skill  of  country  physicians.  Practitioners  in 
great  cities;  can  pursue  specialties  and  by  this 
means  secure  great  skill  and  repute.  This  is  a 
sufficient  reason  why  so  many  difficult  cases  find 
their  way  to  Now  Yo'rk.  During  the  year  about 
3,000  of  this  class  of  unfortunates  come  hither, 
and  their  expenses  vary  from  $300  to  ten  limes 
that  sum.  Our  medical  profession  derives  at 
least  half  a  million  annually  from  this  migration. 
What  is  miioli  warned  line  is  an  invalid  hotel. 
We  mean  an  establishment  uniting  the  character- 


istics of  a  hotel  and  a  hospital,  where  the  sick 
could  come  with  the  assurance  of  a  proper  re- 
ception. A  house  of  this  kind,  if  undertaKen  by 
a  man  of  enterprise  and  skill,  would  be  highly 
profitable,  as  well  as  a  great  public  benefit. 

New  York  has  by  no  means  the  hospital  ac- 
commodation which  80  vast  a  population  re- 
quires. While  the  city  has  doubled  in  popula- 
tion its  hospitals  have'notbeen  proportionately 
enlarged.  The  vei-y  best  institution  of  thc«kind 
(as  many  think)  in  "this  city  is  only  open  to  pau- 
pers. This  18  Bellevne,  whose  situation  on  the 
margin  of  the  East  River  afiords  fresh  air,  a  lux- 
ury seldom  here  enjoyed  even  by  the  rich.  At 
this  place  a  thousand  puticnts  are  accommodated 
with  the  best  of  treatment.  The  pauper  while  in 
health  is  of  small  account,  but  as  soon  as  he  be- 
comes ill  he  receives  careful  attention.  Such 
are  the  attractions  of  this  place  that  we  Jiave 
heard  of  men  feigning  sickness  in  order  to  ob- 
tain admission,  and  during  the  winter  the  ex- 
amining physician  is  compelled  to  refuse  many 
applications  of  tliis  character. 

Bellevne  contains  a  number  of  cells  devoted 
to  cases  of  ddirium  tremens,  and  at  this  time  of 
general  intemperance  they  are  tull.  Any  one  who 


38 


Ti-lJE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


#  /?   '' 


ilii     ^^_*^-a¥^ 


|bc 


BATCTEB  BTREBT  QTIABTERB. 

cares  to  witness  the  horrible  fautaaiea  which  at-  ! 
tend  the  closing  bcciiph  of  the  drunkard's  life  can 
thus  find  dally  opportuiiitieH.  All  classes  are 
found  here,  and  the  scL-nos  oiten  witiieseed  tran- 
cend  description.  These  cases  are  carefully 
kratched  to  prevent  suicide.  Some  time  ago  a 
Ifine  looking  young  play-actor  hung  himselt 
in  one  of  these  cells  during  the  al)8tnce  of 
the  attendant.  Seldom  have  been  seen  anything 
more  fearfully  illustrativo  of  the  druukard'a  fate 
than  the  scenes  which  have  been  common  in 
these  places  of  detention,  and  which  so  frequent- 
ly invoke  suicide  as  a  relief.  Bellevue  Hospital 
is  connected  with  the  other  great  charities  of  the 
city  which  are  located  on  the  adjacent  islands, 
BUch  as  Blackwell's  Island,  Ward's  Island  etc., 
and  all  are  under  the  control  of  a  Board  of  Com- 
missioners. The  medical  and  surgical  attend- 
ance employed  here  includes  the  best  talent  of 
the  city. 

It  May  be  that  there  are  in  this  citv  50,000  inva- 
lids, one-third  of  whom  are  confined  to  their  bed. 
AUny  of  these  are  among  the  poor,  and  an  in- 
itlite"  of  a  tenement-houee  can  hardly  expect  the 


care  which  a  sick  bed  re- 
quires. Unless  they  get  into 
the  hospital  their  chances  of 
recovery  are  small.  A  wash- 
erwoman or  mechanic  may 
struggle  for  a  while  with  the 
first  attack  of  the  disease,  but 
when  reduced  to  the  be'l 
they  seldom  rise.  First-class 
physicians  dislike  to  practice 
among  the  poor.  Medical 
caste  runs  very  high,  and  a 
practitioner's  standing  is 
marked  according  to  the 
wealth  and  social  position  of 
bia  patients. 

The  visit  of  mercy  is  all 
very  well,  and  if  a  physician 
can  devote  a  portion "  of  his 
time  iu  this  manner  it  is  ad- 
mired as  a  fine  trait,  but  if  he 
practice  amoug  the  common 
classes  in  a  common  manner 
he  will  rank  accordingly. 
The  poor  enjoy  the  benefit  of 
the  dispensary  system,  which 
is  of  great  value.  These  es- 
tablishments afford  prescrip- 
tions and  also  vaccination. 
One  of  them  issued  85,000 
prescriptions  in  a  year,  and 
the  invariable  spectacle  at 
their  gates  of  coniblued  pov- 
erty and  disease  is  of  a  very 
moving  character. 

It  is  time  we  bad  an  insti- 
tution for  the  education  of 
nurses.  While  there  arc 
thousands  of  people  out  of 
Bm])loyment,  comprising 
clerksj  mechanics,  literati 
and  professional  men,  there 
is  now  employment  for  hun- 
dreds of  nurses,  and  it  may 
he  added  that  a  good  nurse 
is  one  of  the  rarest  attend- 
ants. A  very  large  propor- 
1 1  o  n  of  oiir  professional 
nurses  know  but  little  of  their 
hnsinoss. 

This  is  peculiarly  true  of 
those  of  the  male  sex,  maiiv 
of  whom  amuse  the  dull 
hours  of  a  sick  room  bv 
strong  diink.  Not  one  hall 
ol  this  class  can  be  relied  on 
to  administer  medicine  in  a 
proper  manner,  and  a  phy- 
sician's directions  are  Bolduin 
carried  out.  Hence,  in  im- 
portant cases  the  latter  re- 
main in  attendance  as  long 
as  possible.  It  is  sometimes 
found  that  nurses  are  abu- 
sive and  cruel  to  the  sick, 
which  arises  from  impatience 
and  .irritability.  More  than 
this,  they  are  Homctimes  sus- 

Eected  ol  foul  i>lav.  We  once 
card  of  a  gentleman  who 
believed  that  a  person  who 
nursed  his  daughter  had 
poisoned  her.  He  desired  to 
exhume  the  corpse  for  ex- 
amination, but  this  was  never 
done,  and  the  mystery  of  a 
budden  death  never  w  a  s 
solved.  He  believed  that  the 
jealousy  of  a  rival  in  respect 
to  prospective  matrimony 
had  led  to  a  corruption  of  the  nurse.  It  certain- 
ly would  be  easy  for  one  of  this  class  to  poison  a 
patient,  and  since  people  use  so  many  ways  to 
get  rid  of  their  friends,  it  would  not  bo  surpris- 
ing if  this  were  adopted. 

At  the  hospital  the  pay  m  the  female  wards  is 
$1G  per  month  for  those  nev^ly  engaged;  but  as 
soon  as  they  acquire  experience  the  rate  is  ad- 
vanced. Many  voung  women  from  the  country 
seek  this  sorvice",  because  the  pay  is  better  than 
that  of  more  housework,  and  tue  chance  of  pro- 
motion is  attractive.  "  Monthly  nurses,"  as  they 
are  termed,  receive  $50  a  month  and  sometimes 
more.  Male  nurses  demand  from  $25  to  $40  per 
week.  This  may  seem  large  pay,  but  when  one 
considers  the  importance  of  their  duty  it  is  not  a 
surprising  rate.  The  question  with  the  patiint 
is.  What  is  health  worth  to  him?  There  are 
nurses  here  who  are  paid  $10  per  day.  If  a  mil- 
lionaire be  in  need  of  one  of  this  class  it  makes 
little  difference  what  rate  is  demanded.  He 
wants  the  best  allv  in  fighting  disease,  and  the 
cost  is  a  matter"  of  small  importance.  Many 
good  nurses  are  found  amongthe  colored  peoph-, 


and  $13  per  day  is  a  common  rate  for  men.  If 
nurses  could  be  educated  lor  their  duty,  it  woulit 
assist  physicians  in  a  verv  material'  manner. 
Nursing  is  a  very  trving  employment.  It  requiris 
not  only  a  watchful  and  judicious  mind,  uut  n 
sense  of  duty  such  as  is  seldom  found.  A  first- 
class  nurse  is  a  rare  character,  and  should  be 
highly  prized,  and  to  such  the  words  of  the  poet 
may  be'applied,  "  On  some  fond  breast  the  part- 
ing" soul  relies." 

The  last  act  in  the  drama  of  life  affords  em- 
ployment to  large  numbers,  and  when  one  enters 
the  precincts  of  disease  and  death  he  is  brought 
into  contact  with  a  new  element  of  society.  Here 
IS  the  apothecary,  whose  plate  glass,  porcelain 
jars  and  enormotis  rent  are  to  be  paid  out  of  the 
profits  levied  on  the  sick  and  the  dymg.  The 
druggist  differs  from  all  other  tradesmen  in  one 
point — his  expectation  is  not  so  much  large  sales 
as  large  pVotits.  A  New  York  apothecary  who 
retails  annually  $6,000  worth  of  goods  will  realize 
as  much  profit  as  a  grocer  who  takes  in  ten  times 
that  amount.  Some  drug  shops  do  not  attain 
even  the  moderate  figure  quoted,  and  sul>eist  on 
an  incredibly  small  amount  of  trade.  In  some 
cases  they  add  medical  practice.  In  this  State 
any  man '  who  can  find  a  patient  can  act  as  a 
physician,  being  only  liable  in  case  of  malprac- 
tice. The  facility  with  which  one  may  enter  the 
profession  is  illustrated  by  the  case  of  a  German 
tailor,  who  suddenly  exchanged  the  goose  for  the 
lancet,  and  put  up  the  Esculapian  sign.  Being 
called  to  troat  a  skull  fracture  he  put  on  a  plas- 
ter, and  said  the  patient  would  in  a  short  time 
be  well  again. 

»   ♦    ■ 

SPLENDID  WEDDINQS. 


Ma.  James  Pabtoji  thus  moralizes  upon  the 
magnificent  weddings  for  which  New  York  has 
become  famous: 

In  all  lands,  from  time  immemorial,  marriage 
has  been  celebrated  as  a  festival.  Most  people 
who  have  passed  the  noonday  of  life,  on  looking 
back  over  the  scenes  of  other  days,  will  admit 
that  their  wedding-day,  besides  being  the  most 
important,  was  also  the  happiest  they  have 
known.  It  is  the  day  for  which  all  the  previous 
davs  are  preparatory. 

'ro  the  whole  circle  of  relations  and  friends  it 
is  tlie  most  interesting  of  domestic  events.  Pa- 
rents find  in  it  the  fruition  of  their  most  cherished 
hopes.  The  bride  realizes  the  dream  of  her  ex- 
istence. To  the  bridegroom  it  is  more  than  joy- 
ful; it  is  victory  and  distinction.  He  expeiiences 
something  of  the  exultation  of  the  barbarian 
chief  who  Swoops  down  upon  a  village,  mounted 
upon  his  best  horse,  ana  bears  off  in  triumph 
the  belle  ol  the  tribe.  Others  may  have  wooed, 
but  he  has  won;  and  there  she  stands  by  his  side 
a  crowned  and  willing  prize.  He  has  tnumiihed, 
too,  over  circumstances.  He  has  gained  Ihb 
footing  in  the  world.  In  the  battle  of  life,  in  the 
contest  for  fortune,  he  has  won  a  partial  victory, 
which  affords  a  lair  assurance  of  full  and  final 
triumph. 

So  universally  interesting  is  marriage  that  tbe 
two  popular  branches  of  art,  fiction  and  the 
drama,  are  chiefly  devoted  to  it.  Nearly  every 
novel  IS  the  history  of  a  marriage,  and  almost 
all  plays  exhibit  scenes  in  the  progress  of  a  love 
and  end  on  the  eve  of  a  wedding. 

Nothing,  therefore,  is  more  in  accord  with  tlie 
nature  ol  things  than  that  marriage  should  be 
the  occasion  of  festivity.  It  is  a  melancholy  thing 
to  see  two  or  three,  or"half  a  dozen  people  sneak 
into  a  clergj-man's  house  after  darlc,  and  stand 
up  in  the  gloom  of  one  kerosene  lamp  while  he 
ties  the  indissoluble  knot.  A  wedding  should 
occur  in  the  bright  and  hopeful  morning.  Flow- 
ers, gay  costume,  fresh  decoration,  and  the  pres- 
ence of  friends  should  combine  to  render  the 
scene  memorablv  picturesque  and  delightful. 

Why,  then,  is  it  that  these  gorgeous  and  costly 
weddings  in  New  York,  which  block  'ip  the  streets 
and  crowd  the  fashionable  churches,  strike  such 
a  chill  to  the  heart,  and  fill  the  mind  of  one  who 
knows  something  of  human  life  with  gloomy  fore- 
bodings? "  Two  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  flow- 
ers!" "  Fifty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  pres- 
ents!" The  "ceremony  performed  by  a  cardinal! 
There  has  been  a  run  upon  the  carclinal  of  late. 
It  has  been  even  eurniised  that  the  chaiico  of 
being  married  by  a  cardinal  is  among  the  reasons 
that  convince  some  minds  of  the  superior  claims 
of  the  ancient  church. 

All  this  is  offensive  because  it  seems  false.  It 
does  not  appear  to  be  an  expression  of  honest 
joy  in  the  crowning  triumph  of  young  life,  nor 
the  amiable  desire  of  a  happv  family  to  share  its 
happiness  with  a  wide  circle  of  friends.  The 
guests  and  spectators  do  not  fill  the  church  and 
ci-.ind  the  house  because  they  wish  well  to  the 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


39 


loverB,  aud  desire  to  witneaa  tbo  epectaclo  of 
,  tboir  happiucsa.  Thurc  is  aa  air  of  oetoutatiou 
aboat  the  whole  affiiir.  It  looka  like  au  explu- 
Biou  of  conipresBcil  vanity.  Men  gaze  upon  the 
»how  witli  vacani  wondVr,  a-id  as  tliey  iHsuo 
from  the  liot  and  crowdfd  lionse,  whisper  to  onu 
another,  as  they  think  of  the  brideRrooni  Btand- 
lux  in  a  cloud  of  lace  aud  siitiu:  "  I'oor  devil!" 

I  confess  that  these  are  the  precise  words  that 
escape  my  lips  as  often  us  I  have  the  pain  of  bc- 
lioldmg  one  of  these  splendid  wcddmgs.  The 
iiiii/i  seems  overwliulmed,  lost,  forgotten.  Ho 
has  the  appearance  of  lieuig  a  sort  of  an  appnr- 
touauce  to  the  show— indispensable,  but  not  de- 
sired, and  of  small  account.  The  real  object  of 
the  occasion  appears  to  be  to  make  a  bewilder- 
ing exhibition  of  the  most  costly  aud  unbecoming 
wearing  apparel  which  the  pi-rvertcd  ingenuity 
of  man  has  ueeu  able  to  produce.  A  vision  rises 
before  my  mind  as  I  write  tliese  words  of  a  bride 
I  saw  entering  Grace  Churcli  with  a  traiu  so  long 
that  she  had  crossed  the  tlircshold  of  the  edifice 
before  the  train  had  all  got  out  of  the  carriage. 
Language  cannot  convey  au  idea  how  small,  how 
iusigniflcant,  how  ridiculous  the  bridegroom 
looked  in  the  midst  of  that  great  tasteless  spread 
of  while  fabric. 

Poor  devil,  indeed!  When,  at  last,  the  wed- 
ding show  is  over — wheu  the  last  spectator  has 
departed,  aud  the  married  couple  find  them- 
selves aloue,  what  is  it  that  he  receives  to  his 
arms  ?  Is  it  a  happy  and  loving  woman  I  After 
six  weeks  of  incessant  toil  and  worry,  otten  con- 
tinued far  into  the  night,  t<he  sinks  exhatisted  in 
the  briditl  chamber,  completely  realizing  Charles 
Reade's  description  of  a  spent  female,  "  live  feet 
eight  of  human  jelly,  crowned  with  a  headache." 

Aud  it  is  ]us  doom  to  waste  life  in  the  wild  en- 
deavor to  keep  up  that  barbaric  and  vulgar  mag- 
nificence! 


GAMBLING  IN  WALL  STREET. 


Wall,  Street  has  been  called  the  pulse  of  the 
financial  system,  aud  the  expression  is  not  alto- 
gether inapplicable.  In  a  healthv  body  the  pulse 
does  Its  work  so  quietly  that  tno  person  is  not 
conscious  that  he  has  a  pulse,  and  experiences 
some  difficulty  iu  fludiug  it.  But  wheu  we  are 
sick,  the  pulse  changes  its  character,  often  be- 
coming rapid,  and  even  violent.  The  doctor,  as 
soon  as  he  enters,  puts  his  fingers  upon  it,  and 
learns  much  of  the  condition  of  the  patient  from 
the  state  in  which  he  finds  it. 

An  exaggerated  Wall  Street  has  always  been  a 
bad  sign  in  this  country.  As  far  back  as  1836, 
when  the  war  of  President  Jackson  against  the 
United  States  Bank  had  resulted  in  giving  a  sud- 
den and  unnatural  increase  of  strength  to  the 
State  Banks,  causing  inflation  and  wild  specula- 
tion in  land,  Wall  Street  became  the  center  ol 
Eublio  interest.  James  Gordon  Bennett,  an  am- 
itious  young  journalist,  who  had  just  started 
the  Herald,  perceived  the  fact,  and,  to  meet  the 
public  want,  invented  the  "Money  Article," 
which  has  ever  since  been  a  feature  of  American 
iourualism.  Scores  of  young  men  ^opened  bro- 
ker's offices,  and  space  in  Wall  Street  doubled  in 
value. 

It  was  the  same  in  General  Washington's  day, 
wheu  Alexander  Hamilton's  policy  had  led  to  a 
similar  inttation.  Letters  of  that  time  record  that 
tailors  laid  aside  the  needle  to  speculate  in  gov- 
ernment paper,  and  ships  rotted  at  the  wharves 
because  merchants  thought  they  could  employ 
iheir  capital  more  profitably  lu  bank  shares  than 
m  commerce.  A  very  few  months  sufficed  to 
bring  both  these  inflations  to  a  most  disastrous 
collapse. 

Never  was  Wall  Street  so  enormously  exag- 
gerated, so  excited,  so  tumultuous,  as  during 
the  inflation  of  the  war,  when  gold  was  going 
up  with  alarming  rapidity  towards  three  hun- 
dred. No  one  who  saw  it  then  can  ever  forget  it. 
The  street  itself,  the  adjacent  lanes,  the  gold 
room,  the  Broker's  Exchange,  the  very  steps  and 
areas,  were  all  crowded  with  a  mob  of  madmen, 
shouting,  bawling,  bellowing;  and  when  evening 
came  the  scene  of  operations  was  transferred  to 
the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  and  its  vicinity-,  where 
the  same  wild  gambling  was  kept  up  till  mid- 
night. From  that  dav  to  this.  Wall  Street  has 
shrunk  and  shriveled  when  times  have  been 
good,  but  it  has  expanded  when  times  have  beeu 
bad.  There  was  a  period  during  the  first  term 
of  General  Grant  when  hundreds  of  brokers,  and 
even  a  considerable  number  of  "  bankers,"  were 
starved  out,  aud  there  was  a  prospect  of  the 
street  being  reduced  to  the  limits  required  by  the 
business  of  the  country. 

Wall  Street  has  spread  all  over  the  countrv. 
Its  business  is  now  so  arranged  that  a  barber's 
apprentice  in  Bangor  or   a   billiard  marker  in 


Nashville  can  speculate  in  Wall  Street  without 
leaving  his  abode.  Any  fool  who  can  raise  ten 
dollars  can  lose  it  in  Wall  Street,  though  he  live 
beyond  the  Koeky  Mountains.  I  was  assured 
the  other  day  by  a  gentleman  who  has  done  busi- 
ii''8»  in  Wall  Street  for  many  years,  that  the  num- 
ber of  persons  who  habitually  gamble  in  this 
way  IS  not  less  than  one  hundred  aud  fifty  thou- 
sand! 

Astounded  at  this  incredible  statement.  I  have 
since  made  further  inquiries,  and  watched  the 
long  string  of  advertisements  daily  inserted  by 
people  who  sell  "  puts,"  "calls,"  "  straddles," 
"  privileges,"  and  other  cheap  Wall  Street  ware. 
I  have  also  read  various  small  books  giving  ad- 
vice as  to  the  purchase  of  such  commodities.  It 
is  evident  that  the  circle  of  Wall  Street  gamblers 
has  become  ininienso. 

I  beg  to  state  one  fact  for  the  benefit  of  those 
who  may  bo  inclined  to  try  their  liickiu  a  "put," 
or  a  "  call,"'  or  a  "  privilege,"  or  a  "  straddle.' 

Wall  Street  ia  now  governed  by  a  few  men— a 
very  few  men,  say,  four  — and  these  men  have 
the  movements  in  the  speculative  stockd  so  en- 
tirely under  their  control,  that  no  outside  specu- 
lator can  make  any  money.  It  ia  just  as  impos- 
sible as  it  is  to  make  money  by  playing  against 
the  bank  in  a  gambling  house.  You  may  win 
one  stake,  or  two,  or  three;  but  you  are  certain 
to  lose  ifyou  keep  on.  It  is  as  certain  as  arith- 
metic. 'Thoso  four  men  work  the  market  up  till 
they  have  drowned  out  all  tbo  young  bears;  then 
they  work  it  down  till  all  the  young  bulls  are 
engulfed.  Be  you  bull  or  bo  you  boar,  stake  ten 
dollars  or  put  up  a  "  margin  "  of  ten  thousand, 
you  must  lose  !  The  whole  affair  is  cut  aud  dried. 
It  is  managed  by  men  who  are  more  familiar 
with  the  street  than  any  farmer  ever  was  with 
his  own  barn.  They  control  millions,  and  every 
dollar  of  thoso  millions  was  brought  into  the 
street  by  people  who  thought  they  would  "  ti-y 
their  luck  in  Wall  Street." 


A  GLOSSARY  OF  WALL  STREET  PHRASES. 


Those  interested  in  stock  speculations  will 
find  the  following  vocabulary  of  terras  used  in 
Wall  Street  worth  remembermg: 

Bear  market — When  the  market  is  heavy  aud 
falling,  aud  lower  prices  are  expected,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  efforts  of  the  "  bear." 

Bear  the  market — i.  e.,  operate  for  a  decline. 
A  bear  is  naturally  "short"  of  stocks,  and  ex- 
pecting to  profit  by  a  decline. 

Borrowing  and  loaning  stocks— When  a  party 
has  sold  stock  short  aud  has  not  bought  in  by 
the  time  the  delivery  must  be  made,  he  ' '  bor- 
rows "  the  stock  for  the  purpose  of  making  the 
delivery,  paying  the  owner  the  market  price  on 
demand,  or  at  fixed  time,  the  lender  of  the  stock 
paying  the  borrower  an  agreed  rate  of  interest 
on  the  money,  or  the  borrower  paying  the  lender 
an  agreed  premium  for  the  use  of  the  stock,  as 
the  case  may  be. 

Cover,  to  "cover  one's  shorts" — Where  stock 
has  been  sold  short  and  the  seller  buys  it  in  to 
realize  his  profit,  or  to  protect  himself  from  loss, 
or  to  make  his  delivery.  This  is  "covering 
short  sales." 

A  call — The  privilege  obtained,  fur  a  consider- 
ation, of  calling  for  a  certain  number  of  shares 
of  stock,  at  a  given  price,  within  a  time  named. 

Carrying  stock— Holding  stock  by  a  broker  for 
his  customers  on  a  margin. 

Clique— A  combination  of  operatoi-s  formed  for 
the  purpose  of  anificially  influencing  the  market 
by  tneir  combined  operations. 

Comer — When  the  market  is  oversold,  the 
shorts,  if  compelled  to  deliver,  sometimes  find 
themselves  in  a  "corner.  ' 

Curbstone  brokers— Men  who  are  not  mem- 
bers of  any  regular  organization,  and  do  business 
mainly  upon  the  sidewalk. 

Flyers — Is  a  small  side  operation,  not  employ- 
ing one's  whole  capital,  or  not  iu  the  line  of  ms 
ordinary  operations. 

Lamb — A  very  green  "outsider"  who  essays 
stock  speculation. 

Limited  order — An  order  to  buy  and  sell  with- 
in a  certaiu  fixed  price,  above  or  below  which  the 
party  giving  the  order  does  not  wish  to  go. 

Margins — Where  one  buys  or  sells  for  specula- 
tion, and  deposits  with  his  broker  a  percentage 
of  value  to  enable  the  latter  to  "  carry  '  the  stock 
and  protect  him  against  loss  from  fluctuations  in 
value. 

Milking  the  streets — The  act  of  cliques  or  great 
operators  who  hold  certain  stock  so  well  in  hand 
that  they  cause  any  fluctuations  they  please.  By 
alternately  lifting  and  depressing  prices,  they 
"milk"  tiie  Biuall  operators  and  the  outside. 

Put— To  buy  a  "put"  is  to  obtain  the  right. 


for  a  consideration,  to  deliver  a  stock  at  a  certain 
agreed  price  within  a  given  number  of  days. 

Stop  order — An  order  to  -lell  out  stock  in  case 
it  should  decline  to  a  ccrlain  price  i^r  to  buy 
short  stock  in  case  it  slioulil  iidvaiicc  to  a  certain 
price.     A  means  adopted  by  a  party  "long"  or 

short"  of  a  stock  to  limit  Ins  loss  to  a  certain 
figure. 

Turn  stocks -(/'(msiHts  in  buying  for  cush  or 
regular  way  and  selling  a  like  aiiioiint  of  the 
same  stock  at  tli(!  same  time,  on  "  <>[)tiou,"  then;- 
by  making  six  per  cent,  interest  and  difference 
that  may  oxixt  at  the  time  between  the  market 
price  of  the  stock  for  cash  and  iin  option;  or  sell- 
ing for  cash  and  buying  on  option,  when  the 
stock  is  hard  to  carry  and  the  holder,  hoping  lor 
a  rise,  docs  not  want  to  get  out  of  it. 

Washing — la  where  one  broker  arranges  wit  It 
another  to  pay  a  certain  stock  when  ho  offers  it 
tor  sale.  Ihc  bargain  is  fictitidiis,  and  the  ef- 
fort, when  not  detected,  is  to  keep  it  quoted  and 
afford  a  basis  for  bona-fido  sales.  It  is  not  ooun- 
tenanced  by  the  rules  of  exchange,  and  if  discov- 
ered renders  members  engaged  in  it  liable  to  the 
penalty  of  expulsion. 


THE  FAMOUS  FOURTH  WARD. 

There  is  scarcely  a  district  of  this  city,  em- 
braced in  what  was  known  as  the  limits  of  a 
ward,  that  has  witnessed  so  many  radical  changes 
as  the  "  old  Fourth  Ward."  Owing  to  political 
alterations  whicli  have  made  Aldermauic  dis- 
tricts in  New  York  City,  what  were  formerly 
known  as  "ward  lines"  have  been  nearly 
obliterated,  and  few,  except  it  be  the  older  resi- 
dents, can  tell  anything  of  their  former  bound- 
eries.  The  Fourth  Ward  bad  its  limits  bounded 
by  Peck  Slip,  Ferry  and  Spruce  Streets  on  one 
side;  Chatham  Street  and  Square  on  another; 
Catherine  Street  and  the  East  Itiver  on  the  thinl 
and  fourth.  Within  these  limits  resided  until 
recently  a  very  large  number  of  persons;  but 
this  is  likely  to  be  entirely  changed  if  the  pres- 
ent and  proposed  improvements  are  carried  out. 

A  little  over  two  hundred  years  ago  the  greater 
part  of  this  district  was  a  swamp,  aud  by  that 
name  a  portion  of  it  is  now  known.  A  creek  ran 
along  the  line  of  the  present  Roosevelt  Street, 
and  was  crossed  by  a  rustic  bridge  at  Chatham 
Street.  At  about  this  time  nearly  one-half  of  the 
ward,  or  that  portion  embraced  within  the  region 
now  bounded  by  Roosevelt,  Oak,  Ferry,  and 
other  streets  and  the  East  River,  was  sold  at 
public  auction  for  £60,  and  ten  years  later  at 
private  sale  for  £70.  The  deeds  tor  these  sales 
are  still  preserved.  This  was  at  about  the  close 
of  the  Dutch  rule,  or  the  beginning  of  the  British 
government  of  the  island,  and  at  a  time  when  the 
city  proper  was  below  the  lino  of  Wall  Street. 
At  a  later  period  the  elevated  portions  of  thi.'» 
district  began  to  attract  attention,  and  sites  were 
selected  by  wealthy  persona  for  rural  residences 
with  grounds  attached.  General  Latham,  the 
Waltons  and  others  erected  what  were  then  pa- 
latial residences,  with  grounds  extending  to  or 
overlooking  the  quiet  waters  of  the  East  River. 
In  those  days  there  were  no  ferries  or  steam- 
boats. The  Latham  mansion  was  situated  with- 
in a  handsome  piece  of  ground  on  Cherry  Hill, 
the  name  having  been  given  to  the  spot  by  the 
beautiful  cherry  orchards  which  flourished  there. 
This  house,  which  still  stands,  was  erected  about 
the  year  1700,  and  has  walls  nearly  three  feet 
thick.  Cherry  Street  gained  its  name  through 
beginning  at  the  top  of  Cherry  Hill. 

As  the  city  extended  northward  the  bridge 
over  the  creek  before  alluded  to  was  the  con- 
necting link  between  city  and  country,  but  it «  as 
not  until  shortly  before  the  Revolution  that  the 
Fourth  Ward  began  to  rise  as  a  special  neighbor- 
hood, when  the  aristocracy  of  the  city  chose  to 
erect  buildings  on  Pearl  and  Cherry  Streets.  .At 
this  time  the  shipbuilding  interests  were  located 
at  the  upper  end  of  what  is  now  Cherry  Stn-it. 
along  which  the  British  officials  used  to  pa-a 
when  on  the  way  to  the  Government  yards. 

At  the  time  of  the  Revolution  many  of  tlio 
principal  personages  of  the  city  had  located 
themselves  in  the  Second  and  Fourth  Wards, 
and  when  George  Washington  was  inaugurated 
President  in  Wall  Street  both  he  and  Govrrnor 
Clinton  resided  on  what  is  now  known  as  Frank- 
lin Square,  at  the  junction  of  Pearl  and  Cherry 
Streets.  Several  other  persons  of  note  resided 
in  the  vicinity,  and  the  members  of  the  Society 
of  Friends,  or  Quakers,  occupied  a  number  of 
houses  in  this  neighborhood.  Owing  to  the  nar- 
row streets,  winch  were  tbo  custom  of  the  time, 
and  the  small  size  of  the  houses — they  being 
mostly  two  stories  in  height,  with  au  under- 
ground basement,  reached  generally  bv  steps 
from  the  sidewalks  covered  at  night  with  slant- 


40 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE    CLTY. 


ing  cellar  flaps  of  wood,  a  few  baviag  low  gable 
roofs  with  attics — the  buildings  were  nearly  all 
occupied  by  one  family  each.  Some  attempt  at 
a  garden  was  made  behind  many  of  these  houses, 
but  the  ground  is  now  covered  with  rear  dwell- 
ings reached  through  alleyways.  The  houses 
were  built  very  strongly,  as  they  were  intended 
to  last  for  more  than  one  lifetime. 

About  fifty  years  ago  a  great  change  took  place 
in  the  Fourth  Ward.  The  aristocratic  and  better 
class  of  inhabitants  moved  into  the  Fifth  and 
Seventh  Wards,  and  their  former  abodes  were 
occupied  by  a  lower  stratum  of  society,  which 
herded  together  until  the  region  became  very 
populous.  It  soon  had  a  bad  reputation,  and 
was  generally  known  as  the  "  Bloody  Fourth," 
on  account  of  the  numerous  sanguinary  affrays 
and  murders  which  occurred  therein.  Owing  to 
the  narrow  streets  and  numerous  alleys  a  crim- 
mal  was  easily  enabled,  by  slipping  into  the 
crowded  dwellings,  to  elude  pursuit,  and  it  was 
as  macb  as  au  officer's  life  was  worth  to  attempt 
the  capture  of  one  in  the  Fourth  Ward.  Tam- 
many Hall  and  tho  "Pewter  Mug"  were  the  po- 
litical headquarters  of  many  of  this  class,  and 
they  were  both  located  in  the  Fourth  Ward.  A 
notorious  place  at  the  junction  of  Duane,  Cham- 
bers, and  Chatham  Streets,  designated  the  In- 
ternatioual  Hotel,  was  the  resort  of  the  most  de- 
praved men,  and  at  election  times  was  the  scene 
of  many  serious  disturbances.  On  the  site  of 
this  now  stands  the  "  Newsboys  Lodging  House," 
a  fine  structure. 

The  cutting  through  of  New  Chambers  Street 
swept  away  many  oftho  dens  of  vice  in  the  "  old 
Fourth  Ward,"  and  by  giving  a  broad  thorough- 
tare  enabled  the  police  easily  to  aid  each  other  in 
times  of  disturbance,  and  made  the  chances  of 
retreat  for  criminals  less  available  by  rendering 

fiolice  pursuit  more  practicable.  The  health 
aws  also  drove  many  from  their  fever  stricken 
abodes  in  the  attics  and  underground  basements 
of  these  old  houses,  and  rendered  the  buildings 
more  healthy  by  limiting  tho  number  of  persons 
to  the  size  of  the  premises  occupied.  This  action 
caused  many  to  move  into  uptown  districts  on 
the  East  side,  where  tenement  houses  had  been 
erected  suitable  to  families  of  very  moderate 
means,  and  thus  tiio  dense  population  was  par- 
tially decreased  and  dispersed. 

A  great  change  is  now  going  on  in  the  Fourth 
Ward,  whereby  houses  never  intended  for  tene- 
ments, although  occupied  by  several  families, 
are  being  torn  down  under  the  orders,  in  many 
cases,  of  the  Chief  of  the  Bureau  of  Buildings. 
The  sites  of  those  houses  are  being  replaced  with 
large  storehouses  or  premises  to  be  used  for 
manufacturing  or  business  purposes.  Tho  con- 
struction of  the  Brooklyn  Bridge  caused  many 
old  buildings  to  disappear  along  tho  line  of  the 
approach,  and  as  tho  arches  are  to  be  used  as 
storehouses  for  leather,  etc.,  the  pew  buildings 
along  Frankfort  Street  are  being  constructed  for 
similar  purposes.  Along  Pearl  Street  many  new 
buildings  for  manufacturing  enterprises  have 
been  erected,  and  it  is  proposed,  when  the  pres- 
ent leases  expire,  to  tear  down  the  old  fashioned 
dwellings  along  that  street  and  the  adjoining 
thoroughfares,  and  turn  them  also  into  similar 
establishment  for  business.  Rose  and  Vande- 
water  Streets  are  thus  being  changed  rapidly. 
It  is  believed  by  many  of  tlie  old  inhabitants 
that  in  a  few  years  there  will  be  as  few  actual 
residents  in  the  Fourth  Ward  as  are  in  the  old 
Second  and  Third  Wards,  now  mainly  occupied 
by  offices  and  business  premises. 


EMPLOYMENT  IN  THE  CITY. 


A  LAROE  proportion  of  all  the  young  men  and 
young  women  who  come  to  New  York  to  get  em- 
ployment belong  to  tho  class  that  have  no  ac- 
quired skill  in  anything,  and  no  distinct  ideas  as 
to  what  they  are  good  for.  Perhaps  they  adver- 
tise that  they  "  would  bo  willing  to  engage  in  any 
respectable  business."  But  employers  do  not 
rusu  after  those  who  have  no  specialty,  who 
have  spent  their  early  youth  without  discovering 
an  aptitude  for  some  one  calling,  and  cultivating 
such  honest  ambition  to  excel  in  it  as  would  lead 
to  practical  qualification.  It  is  these  nothings  in 
particular  who  are  a  constant  dead  weight  on  the 
Christian  associations.  There  may  be  a  list  of 
applicants  with  responsible  situations  to  be 
filled,  and  numbers  of  persons  wanting  situa- 
tions; but  you  cannot  fill  a  square  hole  with  a 
round  sticli,  nor  hcU  wool  in  the  fleece  to  a  man 
in  immediate  need  of  a  coat. 

The  wealth  and  competition  in  cities  and  large 
towns  make  the  struggle  for  the  "  survival  of  the 
fittest"  a  hard  one  for  the  workman  in  tho  raw. 
However  great  the  demand  for  labor,  the  in- 


stances are  rare  in  which  there  is  not  a  steady 
oversupply  in  all  departments.  This  enables 
employers  to  make  careful  selections.  They 
cannot  afford  to  hire  incompetent  hands  even  at 
low  wages.  If  they  do,  they  are  apt  to  find  the 
cheapest  the  dearest,  at  the  same  time  that  the 
unlearned  workman  is  finding  out  that  the  short- 
est way  across  is  the  longest  way  around. 


THE  STREET  MUSICIANS. 

Okb  day,  through  a  narrow  and  noisome  street, 

Where  naught  but  squalor  and  poverty  greet 

The  passer-by.  4  chanced  to  stray. 

'Twas  a  mellow  and  bright  October  day, 

A  genial  autumn  sun  shone  down 

On  rich  and  j)oor  in  that  crowded  town; 

And  over  the  house-tops  a  deep  blue  sky 

Greeted  each  beggar's  upturned  eye. 

While  the  very  heavens  seemed  to  smile 

His  hunger  and  weariness  to  beguile. 

Bare-headed  children,  ragged  and  free, 

Over  the  curbstones  romped  In  glee. 

Lazily  by,  a  policeman  walked; 

Shop-men  stood  In  their  doors  and  talked; 

Now  and  then,  with  a  glance  downcast, 

Some  wreck  of  a  sot  went  staggering  past. 

With  a  trembling  form  and  a  visage  wan; 

Yet  the  current  of  life  went  flowing  on; 

And  the  sky  was  blue,  and  the  sunlight  fell 

On  the  happy  ones  and  the  sad  as  well. 

But  hark!  through  that  narrow  and  crowded  street, 

Of  a  sudden  there  poured  a  melody  sweet. 

A  volume  of  soft  harmonious  sound 

Strangely  contrasting  with  all  around; 

And  1  pa"u3ed  to  listen,  while  each  sweet  note, 

Pure  as  a  warbling  from  robin's  throat, 

Seemed  to  float  on  the  Idle  air 

To  attic,  and  cellar,  and  crazy  stair. 

And  carry  a  whisper  of  peace  and  rest 

Wherever  it  went  on  its  pathway  blest. 

"  Sweet  and  low,  sweet  and  low, 

Wind  of  the  western  sea. 
Low,  low,  l)reatlie  and  blow, 

Wind  of  the  western  sea! 
Over  the  rolllUK  waters  go, 
Come  from  the  dying  moors,  and  blow, 
Blow  hi  in  again  to  me; 
While  my  little  one,   while  my   pretty    one 
sleeps."' 

'Twas  a  strolling  minstrel  band  of  four 

Who,  standing  before  a  groggery  door. 

With  piilTed  out  cheeks  and  beating  feet 

Were  playing  there  in  that  busy  street, 

Vagabonds,  they,  no  doubt;  in  fact 

Tlielr  garb  was  "ragged,  the  trumpets  cracked. 

And  they  looked  like  men  who  seliloni  knew 

What  'twas  to  own  a  dollar  or  two. 

Yet,  spite  of  this,  as  I  listened  there 

"To  the  sweet  soft  notes  of  the  plaintive  air 

That  came  from  those  minstrels,  ragged  and  odd, 

1  thought,  "  'Tis  a  message  sent  from  Ood, 

Bringing  reminders  pure  and  sweet. 

To  the  poor  sad  souls  in  this  narrow  street." 

Then  the  little  children  over  the  way 

Looked  and  wondered  and  stopped  their  play, 

And  the  ofllccr  paused  In  his  weary  walk, 

Willie  the  gossiping  shop-men  ceased  to  talk: 

And  from  tenement  wiiulows  all  about, 

There  was  many  a  weary  face  peeped  out 

And  smiled  at  the  joy  that  had  suddenly  come 

To  cheer  Its  poverty-stricken  home. 

Out  of  the  groggery,  reeling,  came 

Into  the  sunlight  (oh,  for  shame!) 

One  whose  visage  ami  mien  bespoke 

A  dreadful  bondage  to  liquor's  yoke— 

A  soul  of  honor  and  pride  liereft. 

Yet  there  were  traces  of  manhood  left. 

And  as  the  music  reached  his  ear 

He,  slagireriiiB,  paused — then  lingered  near. 

Abashed  and  doul)ting— then  gave  a  start, 

For  the  melody  sweet  had  touched  his  heart; 

Those  strains,  so  plaintive  and  soft  and  low, 

Recalled  the  lullaby,  long  ago 

That  his  mother  In  tones  so  sweet  and  mild 

Had  sung  to  him  as  a  little  child. 

"Sleep  and  rest,  sleep  and  rest, 
Father  will  come  to  thee  soon; 
Rest,  rest,  on  mother's  Ijreast, 

Father  will  come  to  thee  soon: 
Father  will  come  to  his  bat)e  In  the  nest, 
Silver  sails  all  out  of  the  west 
Under  the  silver  moon. 
Sleep,  my  little  one,  sleep,   my  pretty  one, 
sleep!" 

Then,  over  him  like  a  torrent,  came 
The  sense  of  his  present  sin  and  shame. 
And  the  tears  came  pouring  down  bis  cheek. 
"Oh,  OodI  "  he  cried,  "  I  am  frail  and  weak! '" 
And  he  hid  his  face  and  murmured  a  prayer 
Out  of  the  depths  of  his  dark  despair, 
(God  grant  his  penitent  prayer  was  heard!) 
He  turned  away  and  withoiit  a  word. 
But  with  steady  step,  and  a  figure  bowed. 
Was  lost  in  the  hurrying,  passing  crowd. 
The  music  ceased  and  I  went  my  way, 
But  I  ne'er  shall  forget  that  sunny  day 
When  I  heard  that  music  so  soft  and  sweet, 
Wafted  down  through  the  narrow  street. 


SINISTER  EYES  IN  THE  BARENESS. 

Almost  everywhere  you  go  you  meet  them 
peering  out  at  you,  sinister  and  baleful,  from 
somewhere  under  the  shadow  of  the  night. 

It  may  be  at  a  lone  street  crossing — in  the  hol- 
low cavern  of  some  dark  alley-hole,  across  which 
vou  quickly  hasten  to  get  into  the  broader  lone- 
liness of  the  step-echoing  street — in  the  nearlv 
deserted  street-car  crawling  up-town  on  its  last 
trip  from  the  foot  of  Park  Bow — or  issuing  re- 
luctantly and  illicitly  from  the  low  bar-room  of 
the  more  secluded  thoroughfares;  but  the  way- 
farer of  the  night  almost  invanably  meets  it  at 
one  place  or  the  other — the  low,  cunning  eye, 
the  malicious,  evil-gazing  orb  of  the  self-con- 
acious  felon. 

They  belong  to  criminals  of  all  grades.  The 
pickpocket,  precociously  *pt  or  agedly  experi- 
enced; the  sneak-thief,  lurking  in  area-ways,  or 
hunting  the  light-floods  from  jet-illuminated 
windows,  waiting  for  the  coveted  chance,  and 
dodging  every  honest  footfall  as  it  rings  over  the 
deserted  street;  the  veteran  cracksman  from 
over  the  sea,  hugg^g  the  tools  of  his  trade  un- 
der his  heavy  pea-jacket,  and  flashing  by  with 
his  lace,  whose  devilish  depravity  and  wicked- 
ness make  tho  nightmare  of  your  dreams;  or 
the  burly  garoter,  with  his  confederates  follow- 
ing at  easy  distance;  whoever,  whatever  they 
be,  the  eye  of  evil  is  a  characteristic  of  all,  anil 
gleams  out  with  a  greater  or  less  degree  of  sinis- 
ter criminality. 

It  is  seen  oflener  by  night,  because  it  closes  in 
slumber  by  day.  Sometimes  a  woman  owns  it, 
and  then  it  sparkles  with  a  more  subtle  brilliancy 
of  wickedness,  but  with  the  same  intelligence  of 
the  devil  in  its  depths  of  guile. 

Not  long  ago,  when  my  late  hours  at  the  edi- 
torial desk  were  at  an  end,  I  went  with  a  friend 
to  an  all-night  bar-room,  where  we  could  refresh 
ourselves  with  stimulants,  without  fear  of  inter- 
ruption at  the  hands  of  a  not  very  zealous  police 
force. 

It  was  resorted  to  by  all  classes,  but  mostly  by 
those  who  come  under  the  characterizaticii  of 
"  roughs." 

The  clandestine  system  of  admittance,  through 
the  street-door,  was  thoroughly  organized — as  it 
always  is  in  these  places;  and  we  saw  a  good 
deal  of  tho  "  evil  eye,"  as  we  sat  there  in  the 
costly-cushioned  beiiches. 

Presently,  in  companv  with  two  or  three 
others,  who  might  have  been  professional  fight- 
ers or  thieves,  came  in  a  small,  but  powerfully- 
built,  young  fellow,  who,  we  were  informed,  was 
the  champion  fighter  of  a  certain  city  district. 
He  had  drank  more  than  the  rest,  and  his  power- 
ful, well-knit  frame  was  full  of  the  nervous  ac- 
tion produced  by  artificial  Btimulant.  Every 
motion  was  swift  and  agile— something  between 
the  lithe  gliding  of  a  young  panther  and  the  stur- 
dier springiness  of  a  mountain  ponv— and  he  had 
the  eye  of  malice  under  his  beetle  brows,  though 
blurred  and  unsteady  with  excessive  drink. 

His  comrades,  thrd©  in  number,  were  older, 
and  drank  more  sparingly.  Ever  and  anon  I 
noticed  that  tliey  looked  at  him  with  that  mali- 
cious twinkle  of  the  eye,  which  went  so  strangely 
with  their  apparent  hospitality.  And  when  they 
— the  three— lurked  up  suspiciously  to  the  far 
end  of  the  counter,  the  bar-keeper,  a  good-look- 
ing young  fellow,  the  characterizing  malice  of 
whose  eye  was  but  partially  developed,  leaned 
over  the  bar  and  spoke  to  "the  young  ruffian  I 
have  first  described  in  a  quick",  low  wbieper, 
whidi,  however,  I  did  not  fail  to  hear: 

"  Chaddy,  get  out  of  this  as  soon  as  you  can." 

The  eyes  of  tho  young  bruiser  were  rum- 
blurred  and  sleepy,  as  I  have  said,  but  they 
suddenly  shot  out  a  gleam  of  inquiry —low,  cov- 
ert, almost  buried  beneath  the  brows,  but  keen 
as  a  leopard's  ere  it  makes  the  spring,  while  the 
small,  sinewy  hands  clenched  as  by  instinct. 

The  bar-lender  threw  another  glance  over  his 
shoulder,  and  then  shot  out  another  whisper, 
swift  and  decisive  as  before: 

"  The  rest  of  the  crowd  will  be  hero  in  a  mo- 
ment.   The  game  is  to  trample  you.    Go! " 

The  yonth  stood  for  a  moment,  irresolute— all 
the  sinews  of  tho  '  pony '  springing  in  his  strong 
young  limbs,  all  tho  'panther'  instinct  swelling 
in  his  trained,  muscular  arms,  all  tho  spirit  of 
the  born  fighter  perceptible  in  the  clencuing  of 
the  iron  jaw  and  the  olazing  of  that  evil  eye — 
which  was  his  characteristic — the  characteristic 
of  his  tribe  and  his  analogies. 

But  he  hesitated,  and  was  lost. 

Tinkle!  tinkle!  went  tho  little  bell. 

"  It's  all  up  with  him!  "  I  plainly  read  in  the 
upraised  eyebrows  of  the  bar-tender;  and  a  mo- 
ment thereafter  he  admitted  three  more  men 
whose  general  aspect — and  that  omnipresent, 
never-to-be-forgotten  Evil  Eye — proclaimed  them 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


41 


to  be  the  8cum  of  tho  low  ward  in  which  the  all- 
uight  gin-mill  was  aitnatod. 

By  tliat  " eyo "—who  could  mistake  it? — I  fol- 
,  lowed  tho  recognition  that  sprung  up  botweon 
the  uew-comerB  and  the  other  three. 

In  an  inataut  "  Chaddy,"  as  the  bar-keeper 
had  called  bim,  wan  in  the  midst  of  tho  hix, 
drinking,  at  their  invitation,  with  all  tho  appar- 
ent good  nature  in  tho  world.  lint  the  conspi- 
racy was  to  "  traniplo  him  out,"  and  it  was  quick- 
ly and  cowardly  achieved. 

First,  tho  loud  words — tlien  tho  preconcerted 
quarrel — then  the  ho  and  viler  epitliet  —and  tho 
fight  commenced. 

Chaddy  was  a  gladiator  by  blood.  Swift  as 
lightning  swept  Iuh  trained  blow  from  tho  shoul- 
der, aud  his  insuUer  wont  down  as  if  struck  by  a 
mallet.  But  tho  cowardly  trample  was  inaugu- 
rated. The  straiglilforward,  manly  blow  was  no 
sooner  struck  than  four  or  tivo  heavy  tists  were 
simultaneously  planted  on  tho  fighter's  head — 
four  or  five  heavy  boot-toes  were  driven  into  his 
aide  and  stomach — and  tho  next  instant  ho  was 
down  under  their  foot,  under  tho  stamping  of 
tl.eir  boot-heels,  and  tumblers  and  pitchers  were 
crashed  upon  his  helpless  head,  with  bowls  and 
Tolls  aud  curses  which  reminded  one  of  fiends 
in  hell. 

Tap!  tap!  clang!  clang!  sounded  tho  clubs  of 
policemen  on  the  paving-stones  outside.  The 
cowardly  ruffians  melted  away  in  silence  by 
various  modes  of  egress;  the  bleeding,  mangled, 
and  inseuBiblo  form  was  picked  up  by  two  por- 
ters who  hurried  in,  and  carried  up-stairs,  aud 
the  blood  and  clots  of  hair  upon  the  lloor  were 
hastily  mopped  up  and  fresh  sawdust  sprinkled 
down. 

"  i  knew  they  were  making  a  set  for  Chaddy— 

he's  got  a  raft  of  enemies  in  this  ward,"  said  the 

bar-tender,  in  explanation  to  ns;  "  but  he  has 

helped  to  trample  out  a  heap  of  lads  himself, 

^       ana  ought  to  know  how  to  appreciate  the  dose." 

There  was  grira  humor  in  this  comment,  but 
the  evil  of  tho  bar-tender's  eye  had  suddenly 
grown  to  Buch  maturity  as  he  spoke  it  that  1 
turned  away,  disgrusted  and  sick. 

There  used  to  be  an  old  thief  who  went  about 
New  York,  and  who  was  a  character  in  his  way. 
He  must  have  been  over  sixty,  was  dressed,  like 
a  clergyman,  m  black  broadcloth  and  white 
choker,  but  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life 
in  the  State  and  other  prisons  of  this  country  and 
Great  Britain. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  characteristics  of 
this  genius  of  thievery  was  that  he  used  to  be — 
this  was  a  long  time  ago — seen  in  the  streets  with 
a  girl  of  about  fourteen  (younger  yet,  I  think), 
whose  extraordinarj'  beauty  was  something  of 
general  remark.  It  was  a  matter  of  general  ob- 
servation— especially  on  the  Broadway  prome- 
nade of  Saturday  afternoons — but  none  noticed 
it  mure  keenly  tlian  myself,  for  I  know  the  char- 
actor  of  tho  man. 

A  detective  policeman  one  day  informed  me 
that  the  beautiful  girl  was  the  old  thief  s  daugh- 
ter. 

"  He  has  educated  her  in  the  most  extravagant 
manner,"  I  was  told,  "  and  every  Saturday  takes 
her  for  a  walk  out  of  her  boarding-school  on 
Madison  Square.  He  is  a  villain  of  the  deepest 
dye,  and  couldn't  bo  honest  for  a  twelve-month 
if  he  tried  hard;  but  he  has  one  spark  of  human- 
ity left  in  his  black  soul,  and  that  is  bis  love  for 
that  girl.  Maybe  he  wasn't  such  a  rascal  when 
•he  was  born  to  him,  which  may  account  for  her 
taking  the  goodness  out  of  a  nature  afterward  so 
depraved.  Or  perhaps  her  mother  was  an  angel 
t  and  she  took  from  that  side  entirely;  but,  at  any 
rate,  she  loves  that  old  thief  utterly,  and  doesn't 
dream  for  an  instant  that  he  is  anything  else  but 
tho  'honestest'  of  men." 

"  But,"  I  ventured,  "if  he  is  so  often  in  pris- 
on ?  " 

"  He  has  settled  so  much  upon  her  education," 
was  the  reply,  "and  he  can  easily  explain  any 
absence  going  from  six  months  to  as  many 
years." 

I  could  gain  nothing  further  of  his  history,  but 
this  was  enough  to  fix  my  attention  strongly  and 
keenly. 

I  used  to  ♦onder  at  the  contrast  between  them 
as  they  moved  along  the  street.  She  was  so 
beautiful,  so  thoroughly  lovely;  he,  in  spite  of 
his  sham  respectability"  of  garb,  so  hypocritical, 
30  mean  and  sneaking. 

Her  eyes  were  blue  as  God's  sunhght  sky- 
just  as  serene,  deep,  and  just  as  innocent,"  as 
purely,  tenderly  typical  of  all  that  was  trusting, 
virtuous,  and  true. 

His— their  evil  shone  out  conspicuouslv  enough 
for  me  from  their  mask  of  pinch-back  g"old  spec- 
tacles—were sin-soddened,  crime-crimped,  vice- 
sray,  and  wicked.    But— to  the  credit  of  his  na- 


ture bo  it  spoken— way  down  in  tho  twinkle  of 
their  innate  villainy— tliiere  looked  forth  (beamed 
is  a  better  word)  a  fatherlv  love  and  purity,  and 
tenderness  and  pride  for  that  poor  child  ol  beau- 
ty and  mmfortuno,  which  almost  redeemed  their 
natural  depravity. 

He  had  grown  wealthy  in  crime,  but  had — 
Heaven  bless  him  for  it— kept  it  a  secret  from 
that  poison-fostered  flower  of  his  early  love. 
But  as  all  lives  are  dramatic,  so  are  they  mostly 
tragic;  and  the  crowning  tragedy  of  the  daughter 
of  sin  and  shame — she  shall  bo  nameless  here  I— 
was  at  hand. 

The  old  man  finally  overrcaclied  himself,  as 
all  thieves  ultimately  do,  and  to  save  himself 
from  a  sentence  which  would,  in  its  duration, 
have  exceeded  his  natural  life,  was  compelled  to 
bring  her  as  a  witness,  to  prove  an  alibi. 

She  was  then  in  all  the  glory  and  beauty  of 
budding  womanhood,  and  one  of  the  most  love- 
ly creatures  I  ever  saw  on  earth — pray  God  1 
may  see  her  in  Heaven!  I  was  in  tuc  court  at 
tho  time,  and  shall  never  forget  tho  expression 
of  that  voung,  angel  face,  as  the  true  character 
of  her  debased  parent  was  slowly,  step  by  step, 
in  tho  regular  proccsH  of  a  glib  lawyer's  "  pump- 
ing," laid  before  her  in  all  its  hideousneBs. 

She  shuddered,  the  bloom  vanished  from  her 
cheeks,  and  left  them  deadly  pale.  At  first  I 
thought  sho  would  faint,  but  she  suddenly  sprang 
to  her  feet  in  the  witness-box  in  one  of  those 
paroxysms  which,  once  in  a  life-time,  overstep 
the  boundary  that  marks  the  destiny  oi  a  soul. 

The  downcast  "  Evil  Eye" — tho  characteriza- 
tion of  his  class — shrank  before  the  blaze  of  that 
piercing  glance  which  suddenly  comprehended 
all.  Everything  was  exhibited  in  that  glance. 
Purity  pulled  from  its  pedestal,  honor  dethroned, 
lovo  misled,  trust  betrayed,  utter,  irretrievable 
despair — they  were  all  there  in  characters  of 
painful,  heart-piercing  truth. 

She  uttered  a  wild  cry,  and  exclaimed,  as  her 
white  fingers  were  pointed  at  her  guilty  parent, 
in  an  agony  of  interrogation: 

"  Speak!"  Is  it  true  ?  Are  you  a  felon  ?  Have 
you  always  been  ?  " 

The  bent  head,  tho  tremor  of  the  hands  as 
they  clutched  the  rail  of  the  prisoner's  dock,  the 
voicelessness  of  woe,  were  answer  enough. 

She  sprang  up,  and,  with  another  wild,  moan- 
ing cry,  fled  out  of  the  court,  and  out  of  the 
building. 

The  father  was  convicted,  sentenced,  and  died 
in  prison  after  lingering  there  for  five  years  and 
six  months.  The  daughter  was  never  seen  nor 
heard  of  again — at  least,  by  no  ono  that  I  ever 
knew — after  that  wild,  despairing  flight  from  the 
court-room. 

Perchance,  with  her  it  was  a  mad  plunge  mto 
the  near-flowing  stream,  with  the  cold  waves  to 
muffle  her  death  shriek  as  she  sprang  from  the 
pier;  perchance  it  was  that  madder,  still  more 
lamentable,  plunge  into  the  sea  of  infamy,  where 
she  would  be  lost,  indeed,  where  her  beautiful, 
innocent  young  eyes  would,  through  regular 
gradations  of  depravity,  gather  that  darkness  to 
their  liquid  depths  when  they,  also,  would  be 
numbered  among  "  Sinister  Eyes  looking  out 
from  tho  darkness." 

Beautiful,  but  lost  ones,  bufleting  with  the  sea! 

There  are  threads  of  circumstances  entwining 
themselves  with  every  life;  and,  oh,  let  us  think 
of  them — of  the  Beautiful  Lost,  when  that  crimi- 
inal  evil  eye — whether  of  man  or  woman — peers 
out  to  us  from  the  shadows  of  the  mght! — Nathan 
D.  Vmer,  in  the  JVeic  York  WeekJy. 


DRUNE  IN  THE  STREET. 

"  Dbunk,  jour  worship,"  the  officer  said, 

"  Drunk  in  the  street,  sir! "    She  raised  her  head— 

A  llngerins  trace  of  the  golden  grace 

Still  softened  tlie  lines  of  her  woe-worn  face. 

Unkempt  aud  tangled  her  rich  brown  hair. 

Yet  with  all  the  furrows  and  stains  of  care — 

The  years  of  anguish  and  sin  and  despair — 

The  child  of  the  city  was  passing  fair. 

The  ripe  red  month,  with  lips  compressed— 

The  rise  and  fall  of  the  heaving  breast — 

The  nervous  fingers  so  taper  and  small, 

Crumpled  the  ftinge  of  the  tattered  shawl 

As  she  stood  In  her  place  at  the  officer's  call. 

She  seemed  good  and  fair,  she  seemed  tender  and 

sweet. 
This  fallen  woman  found  drunk  in  the  street. 

Does  the  hand  that  once  smoothed  the  ripple  and 

wave 
Of  that  tangled  hair  lie  still  In  the  grave  ? 
Is  that  mother  who  pressed  those  red  lips  to  her 

own, 
Deaf  to  the  pain  of  their  smothered  moan? 
Has  the  voice  that  chimed  to  the  lisping  prayer 
N'o  accent  of  hope  for  the  lost  one  there, 
Bearing  her  burden  of  sin  and  despair? 


Drunk  In  the  strcetl— In  the  gutter  found— 
From  a  pa.sslonate  longing  to  crush  and  drown 
The  soul  of  the  woman  she  might  have  been— 
To  ning  oirthe  weight  of  a  fearful  dream, 
Aud  awake  again  lu  the  homestead  liard-by. 
And  woodeil  iiiouutain  that  touched  the  sky; 
To  linger  a  while  on  the  path  to  school 
And  catch  In  the  depth  of  the  limpid  pool, 
Under  the  willow  shade,  green  and  cool, 
A  dimpled  fa(;e  and  a  laughing  eye. 
And  tho  pleasant  words  of  a  passer-by. 

Ye  men,  with  sisters  and  mothers  and  wives. 

Have  you  no  care  for  these  women's  lives;'  > 

Must  they  starve  for  the  comfort  they  never  speak  1\ 

Must  they  ever  be  erring  and  sinful  and  weak  — 

Staggering  onward  with  weary  feet, 

Staiue<l  lu  the  gutters  and  drunk  In  the  street  ? 


THE  NISHT  SIDE  OF  NEW  YORK. 


rilOJI  SEUMONS   UY   UliV.    T.    DE  WlTr   TALJIAOE. 

Brought  up  in  the  country  and  Burroanded  by 
much  parental  care,  I  had  not,  until  this  autumn, 
seen  the  haunts  of  iniquity.  By  the  grace  of  God 
defended,  1  had  never  sowed  any  "  wild  oats." 
I  had  somehow  been  able  to  tell  from  various 
sources  something  about  the  iniquities  of  tho 
great  cities,  and  to  preach  agamst  them;  but  I 
saw,  in  the  destructiou  of  a  great  multitude  of 
the  people,  that  there  must  be  an  infatuation  and 
a  temptation  that  had  never  been  spoken  about, 
and  I  said,  "  I  will  explore." 

I  saw  tens  of  thousands  of  men  going  down, 
and  if  there  bad  been  a  spiritual  percussion  an- 
swering to  the  physical  percussion,  the  whole  air 
would  have  been 'full  of  the  rumble,  and  roar, 
and  crack,  and  thunder  of  tho  demoUtion;  and 
this  moment,  if  we  should  pause  in  our  service, 
we  should  hear  the  crash,  crash!  Just  as  in  the 
sickly  season  you  sometimes  hear  the  bell  at  the 
gate  of  tho  cemetery  ringing  almost  incessantly, 
so  I  found  that  the  bell  at  the  gate  of  the  cemetery, 
where  lost  souls  are  buried,  was  tolhng  by  day 
and  tolling  by  night.     I  said,  "  I  will  explore." 

It  was  ten  o'clock  of  a  calm,  clear,  Btarligbted 
night  when  the  carriage  rolled  with  ua  fi'om  the 
bright  part  of  the  city  down  into  the  region  where 
gambling,  and  crime,  and  death,  bold  high  car- 
nival. When  I  speak  of  houses  of  dissipation,  I 
do  not  refer  to  one  sin,  or  five  Bins,  but  to  all 
sins. 

As  the  horsej  baited,  and,  escorted  by  the 
ofiicers  of  the  law,  wo  went  in,  wc  moved  into  a 
world  of  which  wo  were  as  practically  ignorant 
as  though  it  had  swung  as  far  off  from  us  as 
Mercury  is  from  Saturn.  No  shout  of  revelry, 
no  guffaw  of  laughter,  but  comparative  silence. 
Not  many  signs  of  death,  but  the  dead  were 
there. 

As  I  moved  through  this  place  I  said,  "  This 
is  the  home  of  lost  bouIs.  It  was  a  Dante's 
"  Inferno;"  nothing  to  stir  the  mirth,  but  many 
things  to  fill  the  eyes  with  tears  of  pity.  Ah! 
there  were  moral  corpses.  There  were  corpses 
on  the  stairway,  corpses  in  the  gallery,  corpses 
in  tho  gardens.  Leper  met  leper,  but  no  ban- 
daged mouth  kept  back  the  breath. 

Amid  these  haunts  of  death,  in  that  midnight 
exploration,  I  saw  that  there  were  lions,  aud 
eagles,  and  doves  lor  insignia;  but  I  thought  to 
myself  how  inappropriate.  Better  the  insignia 
of  an  adder  and  a  bat. 

First  of  all,  I  have  to  report  as  a  result  of  this 
midnight  exploration  that  all  the  sacred  rhetoric 
about  the  costly  magnificence  of  the  haunts  of 
iniquity  is  apocryphal.  We  were  shown  what 
was  called  the  costliest  and  most  magnificent 
specimen.  I  had  often  heard  that  the  walls  were 
adorned  with  masterpieces;  that  the  fountains 
were  bewitching  in  the  gasUght;  that  the  music 
was  like  the  touch  of  a  Thalbergora  Gottschalk; 
that  the  upholstery  was  imperial;  that  the  furni- 
ture in  some  places  was  like  tho  throne-room  of 
the  Tuileries.    It  is  aJJ  false. 

Masterpieces!  There  was  not  a  painting  worth 
five  dollars,  leaving  aside  the  frame.  Great 
daubs  of  color  that  no  intelligent  mechanic  would 
put  on  bis  wall.  A  cross-breed  between  a 
chromo  and  a  splash  of  poor  paint!  Music! 
Some  of  the  homeliest  creatures  I  ever  saw 
squawked  discord,  accompanied  by  pianos  out  of 
tune!  Upholstery!  Two  characteristics:  red 
and  cheap.  You  have  heard  so  much  about  tho 
wonderful  lights — blue  and  green  and  yellow  and 
orange  flashing  across  the  dancers  and  the  gay 
gn^oups.  Seventy-five  cents  worth  of  chemicals 
would  produce  all  that  in  one  night.  Tinsel, 
gewgaws,  tawdriness,  frippery,  seemingly  much 
of  it  bought  at  a  second-hand  furniture  store  and 
never  paid  for! 

For  the  most  part  the  inhabitants  were  repul- 
sive. Here  and  there  a  soul  on  whom  God  bad 
put  the  crown  of  beauty,  but  nothing  comparable 


42 


TME  GREAT   EMPIRE  CITY. 


with  tlie  Christiau  loveliuess  and  purity  which 
you  may  see  any  pleasaut  afternoon  on  any  of 
the  thoroughlaroB  of  our  great  cities.  Young 
man,  you  are  a  stark  fool  if  you  go  to  places  of 
disaipation  to  eee  pictures,  and  hear  music,  and 
admire  beautiful  and  gracious  countenances. 
In  Thomas's,  or  Dodworth's,  or  Gilmore's  band, 
in  ten  minutes  you  will  hear  more  harmony  than 
iu  a  whole  year  of  the  racket  and  bang  of  the 
cheap  orchestras  of  the  diHsolute. 

But  I  havy,  my  friends,  also  to  report  of  that 
midnight  exploration,  that  I  saw  something  that 
'amazed  mo  more  than  I  can  tell.  I  do  not  want 
to  tell  it,  for  It  will  take  pain  to  many  hearts  far 
away,  and  I  cannot  comfort  them.  But  I  must 
tell  it.  In  all  these  haunts  of  iniquity  I  found 
young  men  with  the  ruddy  color  of  country  health 
on  their  cheek;  evidently  come  to  town  for  busi- 
ness, entering  stores,  and  shops,  and  offices. 
They  had  helped  gather  the  summer  grain. 
There  they  were  in  the  haunts  of  iniquity,  the 
look  on  their  cheek  which  is  never  on  the  cheek 
except  when  there  has  been  hard  work  on  the 
farm  in  the  open  air.  Here  were  these  young 
men,  who  had  heard  how  gayly  a  boat  dances  on 
the  edge  of  a  maelstrom,  and  "they  were  ventur- 
ing. 

Oh,  GodI  will  a  few  weeks  do  such  an  awful 
work  for  a  young  man  ?  Oh  Lord!  has  Thou 
forgotten  what  transpired  when  they  knelt  at  the 
family  altar  that  morning  when  he  came  away, 
and  how  father's  voice  trembled  in  the  prayer, 
and  mother  and  sister  sobbed  as  they  lay  oa  the 
floor?  1  saw  that  young  man  when  he  (irst  con- 
fronted evil.  I  saw  it  was  the  first  night  there. 
I  saw  on  him  a  detiant  look,  as  mucli  as  to  say, 
"  I  am  mightier  than  sin."  Then  I  saw  him 
consult  with  iniquity.  Then  1  saw  him  waver 
and  doubt.  Then  1  saw  going  over  his  counten- 
ance the  shadow  of  sad  reflections,  and  I  knew 
from  his  looks  there  was  a  powerful  memory 
stirring  his  soul.  I  think  there  was  a  whisper 
going  oat  from  the  gaudy  upholstery,  saving, 
"  -My  son,  go  liome."  I  think  tliere  was  a  Laud 
tremulous  with  anxiety,  a  hand  that  had  been 
worn  with  work,  a  hand  partially  wrinkled  with 
ago,  ttiat  seemed  to  beckon  him  away,  and  so 
goodness  and  sin  seemed  to  struggle  in  that 
young  man's  soul;  but  sin  triuinphcd,  and  he 
surreoilered  to  darkness  and  to  death— an  ox  to 
the  slaughter. 

Oh!  iny  soul,  is  thin  tlie  end  of  all  the  good  ad- 
vice ?  Is  this  the  end  of  all  the  prayers  tuat  have 
been  made  ?  Have  the  clusters  of  the  country 
vineyard  been  thrown  into  this  prroat  wine-pres'a 
where  Despair  and  Anguish  aii<l  Death  trample, 
and  the  vintage  is  a  vintage  of  Ijlood  ?  I  do  not 
feel  ao  sorry  for  that  young  man  who,  brought 
up  iu  city  life,  knows  beforehand  what  are  all  the 
surrounding  temptations;  but  Ood  pity  the  coun- 
try lad,  unsuspecting  and  easily  betrayed. 

Oh!  young  man  from  the  farm-house  among 
the  hills,  what  have  your  parents  done  that  you 
should  do  this  against  them  ?  Why  are  you  bent 
on  killing  with  trouble  hor  who  gave  you  birth  ? 
Look  at  her  fingers— what  makes  them  so  dis- 
tort? Working  for  you.  Do  you  prefer  to  that 
honest  old  face  the  berouged  cheek  of  sin  1  Oh! 
write  homo  to-morrow  morning  by  the  first  mail, 
cursing  your  mother's  white  liair,  cursing  her 
stooped  sliouldor,  cursing  her  old  arm-chair, 
cursing  the  cradle  in  which  she  rocked  you. 
"  Oh! '  you  say,  "  I  can't,  1  can't."  You  are  do- 
ing it  already.  There  is  something  on  your 
bands,  on  your  forehead,  on  your  feet.  ItisVed. 
What  IS  It  ?     Thi'  blond  of  a  mother's  broken  heart! 

When  you  wore  thrashing  the  harvest  apples 
from  that  tree  at  tlie  corner  of  the  field  last  sum- 
mer, did  you  think  you  would  ever  come  to  this? 
Did  you  think  that  the  sharp  sickle  of  death 
would  cut  you  down  so  soon  ?  OhI  if  I  thought 
I  couhl  break  the  infatuation  I  would  come  down 
from  the  pulpit  and  throw  my  arms  around  you 
and  beg  you  to  stop. 

Perhaps  I  am  a  little  more  svmpathetic  with 
such  because  I  was  a  countrv  fad.  It  was  not 
until  fifteen  years  of  age  that  i  saw  a  great  city. 
I  remember  how  stupendous  New  York  looked 
as  I  arrived  at  Cortlaudt  Ferry.  And  now  that 
I  look  back  and  remember  that  I  had  a  nature 
all  awake  to  hilarities  and  amusements,  it  is  a 
wonder  that  I  escaped.  I  was  saying  this  to  a 
gentleman  in  New  York  a  few  days  ago,  and  he 
said:  "Ah!  sir,  I  guess  there  icere  some  prayeis 
hovering  nboiU." 

When  I  see  a  young  man  coming  from  the  tamo 
life  of  the  country  and  going  down  in  the  city 
ruin,  I  am  not  surprised.  My  only  surprise  is 
that  any  escape,  considering  the  allurements.  I 
was  a  few  days  ago  on  the  St.  Lawrence  river, 
and  I  said  to  the  captain:  "What  a  ewilt  stream 
this  is!"  "Oh!"  he  replied,  "seventy-five 
miles  from  hero  it  is  ten  times  swifter.  Why,  we 
hara  to  employ  au  Indian  pilot,  and  we  give  liim 


$1,000  for  his  summer's  work,  just  to  conduct 
our  boats  through  between  the  rocks  and  the  isl- 
ands, so  switt  are  the  rapids."  Well,  my  friends, 
every  man  that  comes  into  New  York  and  Brook- 
lyn life  comes  into  the  rapids,  and  the  only  ques- 
tion is  whether  he  shall  have  safe  or  "unsafe 
pilotage. 

But  I  was  going  to  tell  you  of  an  incident. 

I  said  to  the  officer:  ""Well,  let  us  go;  I  am 
tired  of  this  scene;  "  and  as  we  passed  out  of 
the  haunts  of  iniquity  into  the  fresh  air,  a  soul 

Eassed  in.  What  a  face  that  was!  Sorrow  only 
alf  covered  up  with  an  assumed  joy.  It  was  a 
woman's  face.  I  saw  as  plainly  as  on  the  page 
of  a  book  the  tragedy. 

You  know  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  som- 
nambulism, or  walking  in  one's  sleep.  Well,  in 
a  fatal  somnambuUsm,  a  soul  started  off  from 
her  father's  house.  It  was  very  dark,  and  her 
feet  were  cut  of  the  rocks;  but  on  she  went  until 
she  came  to  the  verge  of  a  chasm,  and  she  began 
to  descend  from  boulder  to  boulder  down  over  the 
rattling  shelving — for  you  know  while  walking  in 
sleep  people  will  go  where  they  would  not  when 
awake.  Farther  on  down,  and  farther,  where  no 
owl  of  the  night  or  hawk  of  the  day  would  venture. 
On  down  until  she  touched  tlie  depth  of  the 
chasm. 

Then,  in  walking  asleep,  she  began  to  ascend 
the  other  side  the  chaiin,  rock  above  rock,  as  the 
roeboundeth.  Without  having  her  head  to  swim 
with  the  awful  steep,  she  scaled  the  height.  No 
eve  but  the  sleepless  eye  of  God  watched  her  as 
sde  went  down  one  side  the  chasm,  and  came  up 
the  other  side  the  chasm. 

It  was  an  August  night,  and  a  storm  was  gath- 
enng,  and  a  loud  burst  of  thunder  awoke  her 
from  her  somnambulism,  and  she  said,  "  Whither 
shall  I  fly  ? "  and  with  an  affrighted  eye  she 
looked  back  upon  the  chasm  she  had  crossed 
and  she  lookea  in  front,  and  there  was  a  deeper 
chasm  before  her.  She  said:  "  What  shall  I  do  ? 
Must  I  die  here  ?  "  And  as  she  bent  over  the 
one  chasm  she  heard  the  sighing  of  the  past; 
and  as  she  bent  over  the  other  chasm  she  heard 
the  portents  of  the  future. 

Then  she  sat  down  on  the  granite  crag  and 
cried:  "Oh,  lor  my  father's  house!  Oh,  for  the 
cottage,  where  I  might  die  amid  embowering 
houevsuckle!  Oh!  the  past!  Oh!  the  future! 
Oh,  father!  Oh,  mother!  Oh,  GodI  "  But  the 
storm  that  had  been  gathering  culminated,  and 
wrote  with  finger  of  lightning  on  the  sky,  jnst 
above  the  horizon,  "  The  way  of  the  transgressor 
is  hard!"  And  then  thunder-peal  after  tliuu- 
der-peal  uttered  it:  "  Which  forsaketh  the  guide 
of  her  youth  and  forgetteth  the  covenant  of  her 
God.  Dettroyefl  irUhotU  remedy! "  And  the 
cavern  behind  echoed  it,  "  Destroyed  without 
remedy!  "  And  the  chasm  before  echoed  it, 
"Destroyed  without  remedy!  "  There  she  per- 
ished, her  cut  and  bleeding  feet  on  the  edge  of 
one  chasm,  hor  long  locks,  washed  of  the  storm, 
dripping  over  the  oth«r  chasm. 

****** 

1  noticed  in  my  midnight  exploration  that  the 
haunts  of  sin  are  chiefly  supported  by  men  of 
moans,  and  men  of  wealth.  The  young"  men  re- 
cently come  from  the  country,  are  on  small 
salary,  and  they  have  but  little  money  to  spend 
in  sill,  and  if  they  go  into  luxuriant  iniquity  the 
employer  finds  it  out  by  theinfiumcd  eye  and  the 
marlis'  of  dissipation,  and  they  are  discharged. 
The  luxuriant  places  of  iniquity  are  supported 
by  men  who  come  down  from  the  fashionable 
avenues  of  Now  York,  and  cross  over  from  some 
of  the  finest  mansions  of  Brooklvu.  Prominent 
business  men  from  Boston,  and  Philadelphia, 
and  Chicago,  and  Cincinnati,  patronize  these 
places  of  crime.  I  conld  call  tlie  names  of 
prominent  men  in  our  cluster  who  patronize 
these  places  of  iniquity;  and  I  may  call  their 
names  before  I  get  through  this  course  of  ser- 
mons, though  the  fabric  of  New  York  and  Brook- 
lyn society  tumble  into  wreck.  Judges  of  courts, 
distinguished  lawyers,  officers  of  the  church,  po- 
litical orators,  standing  on  the  Republican  and 
Democratic  and  Greenback  platforms,  talking 
about  God  and  good  morals  until  you  might  sup- 
pose them  to  be  evangelists,  expecting  a  thou- 
sand converts  in  one  night.  Call  the  roll  of  dis- 
sipation in  the  haunts  of  iniquity  any  night,  and 
if  the  inmates  will  answer,  you"  will  find  there 
stock-brokers  from  Wall  Street,  large  importers 
from  Broadway,  iron  merchants,  leather  mer- 
chants, cotton  merchants,  hardware  merchants, 
wholesale  grocers,  representatives  from  all  the 
commercial  and  wealthy  classes.  Talk  about 
the  heathenism  below  Canal  Street!  There  is  a 
worse  heathenism  above  Canal  Street.  I  prefer 
that  kind  of  heathenism  which  wallows  in  filth 
and  disgusts  the  beholder,  rather  than  that 
heathenism)which  covers  up  its  walking  putrefac- 
tion with  camcl's-bair  shawl  and  point  lace,  and 


rides  in  turn-outs  worth  $3,000,  liveried  driver 
ahead,  and  rosetted  flunkey  behind.  We  have 
been  talking  bo  much  about  the  Gospel  for  tlia 
masses,  now  let  us  talk  a  Uttle  about  the  gospel 
for  the  lepers  of  society,  for  the  millionaire  sots, 
lor  the  portable  lazzarettos  of  upper-ten. lom! 
It  is  the  iniquity  that  comes  down  from  tlm 
higher  circles  of  society  that  supports  the  hauiKs 
of  crime,  and  it  is  gradually  turning  our  iiiiea 
into  Sodoms  and  Gomorrahs"  waiting  lor  the  fire 
and  brimstone  tempest  of  the  Lord  God  who 
whelmed  the  cities  of  the  plain.  We  want  about 
five  hundred  Anthony  Comstocks  to  go  forth  and 
explore  and  expose  the  abominations  of  high  life. 
For  eight  or  ten  years  there  stood  within  sight 
of  the  most  fashionable  New  York  drive  a  Moloch 
temple,  a  bro>vu-Btone  hell  on  earth,  which 
neither  the  mayor,  nor  the  judges,  nor  the  pn- 
lice  dare  touch,  when  Anthony  Comstock,  a 
Christian  man  of  less  than  ave"rage  physical 
stature,  and  with  cheek  scarred  with  the  knife  ol 
a  desperado  whom  he  had  arrested,  walked  into 
that  palace  of  the  damned  on  Fifth  Avenue,  and 
in  the  name  of  the  eternal  God,  put  an  end  to  it, 
the  priestess  presiding  at  the  orgies  retreating 
by  suicide  into  the  lost  world,  her  bleeding 
corpse  found  in  her  own  bath-tub.  May  the 
eternal  God  have  mercy  on  our  cities.  Gilded 
sin  comes  down  from  these  high  places  into  the 
upper  circles  of  imquity,  and  then  on  gradually 
down  until  in  five  years  it  make  the  whole  pif- 
grimage,  from  the  marble  pillar  on  the  brilliant 
avenue  clear  down  to  the  cellars  of  Water  Street. 
The  officer  on  that  midnight  exploration  said  to 
me:  "  Look  at  them  now,  and  look  at  them  three 
years  from  now,  when  all  this  glory  has  depart- 
ed; they'll  be  a  heap  of  rags  in"  the  station- 
house."  Another  of  the  officers  said  to  me: 
"That  is  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  wealthiest 
families  on  Madison  Square." 

But  I  have  sometliing  more  amazing  to  tell  you 
than  that  the  men  of  means  and  wealth  support 
these  haunts  of  iniquity,  and  tliaiis,  that  they  art 
chiefly  supported  by  heads  of  families— fathers 
and  husbands,  with  the  awful  perjury  of  broken 
marriage  vows  upon  them,  with  a  niggardly  sti- 
pend left  at  home  lor  the  support  of  their  fam- 
ilies, going  forth  with  their  thousands  for  the  dia- 
monds and  wardrobe  and  equipage  of  iniquity. 
In  the  name  of  Heaven,  I  denounce  this  public 
iniquity.  Let  such  men  '^e  hurled  out  of  accent 
circles.  Let  them  bo  hurled  out  from  business  cir- 
cles. If  they  will  not  repent,  overboard  with  them! 
I  lift  one-half  the  burden  of  malediction  Irom  the 
uupitied  headof  offending  woman,  and  hurl  it  on 
the  blasted  pate  of  offending  man!  Society 
needs  a  new  division  of  its  anathema.  By  what 
law  of  justice  does  burning  excoriation  pursue 
offending  woman  down  off  the  precipices  of  de- 
struction, while  oflcuding  man,  kid-gloved,  walks 
in  refined  circles,  invited  up  if  he  have  money, 
advanced  into  political  recognition,  while  all  tlie 
doors  of  high  life  open  at  the  first  rap  of  his  gold- 
headed  cane  ?  I  say,  if  you  let  one  come  back, 
let  them  iKith  come  back.  If  one  must  go  down, 
let  both  go  down.  I  give  you  as  my  opinion  that 
the  eternal  perdition  of  all  other  sinners  will  bi 
a  heaven  compared  with  the  punishment  ever- 
lasting of  that  man  who,  turning  his  back  upon 
her  whom  he  swore  to  protect  and  defend  iiuti! 
death,  and  upon  his  children,  whose  destiny 
mav  be  decided  by  his  example,  goes  forth  to 
seeli  affectioual  alliances  elsewhere. 

But,  you  press  me  with  the  question:  "  Wliy 
don't  tlie  puolic  authorities  of  New  York  extirpate 
these  haunts  of  iniquity  ?  "  Before  I  give  you  a 
definite  answer,  I  want  to  say  that  the  obstacles 
in  that  city  are  greater  than  "in  any  city  on  this 
continent.  It  is  so  vast.  It  is  the  landing-place 
of  European  immigration.  Its  wealth  is  mighty 
to  establish  and  defend  places  of  iniquity. 
Twice  a  year  there  are  incursions  of  people  from 
all  parts'of  the  laud  coming  on  the  spring  and 
the  fall  trade.  It  requires  twenty  times  the 
municipal  energy  to  keep  order  in  New  York 
that  it  does  in  any  city  from  Portland  to  San 
Francisco.  But  still  you  pursue  me  with  the 
question,  and  I  am  to  "answer  it  by  telling  you 
that  there  is  infinite  fault  and  immensity  of  blame 
to  be  divided  between  three  parties.  First,  the 
police  of  New  York  City.  So  fiir  as  I  know  them 
thoy  are  courteous  gentlemen.  Tbey  have  hail 
great  discouragement,  they  tell  me,  in  the  fact 
that  when  they  arrest  crime  and  bring  it  bef.no 
the  courts,  the  witnesses  will  not  appear  lest  they 
criminate  themselves.  They  toll  me  also  that 
they  have  been  discotiraged  by  the  fact  that  so 
many  suits  have  been  brought  against  them  f"V 
damages.  But  after  all,  my  friends,  they  mn«; 
take  their  share  of  blanoe.  I  have  cometo  l'^'- 
conclusion,  after  much  research  and  invo.s'i- . 
tion,  that  there  are  captains  of  police  in  \  v 
York  who  are  in  complicity  with  crime— men  •■■■■.  < 
make  thousands  of  dollars  a  year,  for  the  ni-r  K 


THE   GREAT    EMPIRE   CITY 


43 


fact  thftt  they  will  not  tell  and  will  permit  places 
of  iniquity  to  ataud  month  after  mouth  aod  year 
after  year.  I  am  told  that  there  are  captains  of 
police  m  Now  York  who  get  a  percentaeo  on 
every  bottle  of  wino  sold  in  the  )iauut8  of  death, 
,  and  that  they  get  a  revenue  from  all  the  Bham- 
bleeofHiii.  What  a  state  of  thiiicH  tins  isl  In 
the  Twouty-niutli  Prccmct  of  Now  York  there  are 
one  hundred  and  twenty-one  dens  of  death. 
Night  after  night,  luontli  after  month,  year  after 
year,  untouched.  In  West  Twenty-sixtli  Street, 
ind  West  Twonty-seveuth  Street,  and  Weal 
rhirty-lirst  Street  there  are  whole  blocks  that 
are  a  pandomoninm.  There  are  between  live 
and  six  huudi^ed  dons  of  darknoHS  in  the  city  of 
New  York,  where  there  are  2,500  policemen. 
Not  long  ago  there  was  a  masquerade  ball,  in 
which  the  maaculine  and  feminine  offenders  of 
society  wore  the  participants,  and  some  of  the 
police  danced  in  the  inasqueriule  and  distributed 
the  prizes!  There  is  the  grandest  opportunity 
that  has  ever  opened  for  any  American  open 
now.  It  is  for  that  man  in  high  official  position 
who  shall  got  into  Ins  stirrups  and  eav:  "Men, 
follow! "  and  who  shall,  in  one  night,  sweep 
around  and  take  all  of  these  loaders  of  iniquity, 
whether  on  suspicion  or  on  positive  proof,  say- 
ing, "I'll  take  the  responsibility,  come  on!  I 
put  my  private  property  and  my  political  aspir- 
atioua  and  mv  hfo  into  this  crusade  against  the 
powers  of  darkness."  Tliatmau  would  be  Mayor 
of  the  city  of  New  York.  That  man  would  be  tit 
to  bo  President  of  the  United  States. 

But  the  second  part  of  tb«  blame  I  must  put  at 
the  door  of  the  District  Attorney  of  New  York. 
I  understand  he  is  an  honorable  gentleman,  but 
ho  has  not  time  to  attend  to  all  these  cases. 
Literally   there   are    thousands    of  cases    uu- 

Eursued  for  lack  of  time.  Now,  I  say  it  is  the 
usiness  of  New  York  to  give  assistants  and 
clerks  and  help  to  the  District  Attorney  until  all 
those  places  shall  go  down  in  quick  retribution. 
But  the  third  part  of  tho  blame,  and  the  heavi- 
est part  of  it,  I  put  on  the  moral  and  Christian 
people  of  our  cities,  who  are  guilty  of  most 
culpable  indifference  on  the  whole  subject. 
When  Tweed  stole  his  millions  large  audiences 
were  assembled  in  indignation;  Charles  O'Conor 
was  retained,  committees  of  safety  and  investi- 
gation were  appointed,  and  a  great  stir  made; 
but  night  by  night  there  is  a  theft  and  a  burglary 
of  city  morals  as  much  worse  than  Tweed's  rob- 
beries as  his  were  worse  than  common  shoplift- 
ing, and  it  has  very  little  opposition.  I  teU  you 
what  New  York  wants:  it  wants  indig;nation 
meetings  in  Cooper  Institute,  and  Academy  of 
Music,  and  Chickering  and  Irving  Halls,  to  com- 
pel tho  authorities  to  do  their  work  and  to  send 
the  police,  with  clubs  and  lanterns  and  revol- 
vers, to  turn  off  the  colored  hghts  of  the  dance- 
houses,  and  to  mark  for  confiscation  the  trunks 
and  wardrobes  and  furniture  and  scenery,  and 
to  gather  up  all  the  keepers,  and  all  the  inmates, 
and  all  the  patrons,  and  march  them  out  to  the 
Tombs,  fife  and  drum  sounding  the  Bogue's 
March. 

♦  *♦♦»* 

"  It  is  only  ten  o'clock,"  said  the  oflScer  of  the 
law  as  we  got  into  the  carriage  for  the  midnight 
exploration — "  it  is  only  ten  o'clock,  and  it  is  too 
early  to  see  the  places  that  we  wish  to  see,  for 
the  theatres  have  not  yet  let  out."  I  said, 
"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  "Well,"  he 
said,  "  the  places  of  iniquity  are  not  in  full  blast 
until  tho  people  have  time  to  arrive  from  the 
theatres."  So  we  loitered  on,  and  tho  officer  told 
the  driver  ti  stop  on  a  street  where  is  one  of  the 
costliest  and  most  brilliant  gambling-houses  in 
the  city  of  New  York.  As  wo  came  up  in  front 
all  seemed  dark.  Tho  blinds  were  down;  tho 
door  was  guarded;  but  after  a  whispering  of  the 
officer  with  the  guard  at  the  door,  wo  were  ad- 
mitted into  the  hall,  and  thence  into  the  parlors, 
around  one  table  finding  eight  or  ten  men  in 
mid-life,  well-dressed — all  the  work  going  on  in 
silence,  save  the  noise  of  the  rattling  "  chips  " 
on  the  gaming-table  in  one  parlor,  and  the  re- 
volving ball  of  tho  roulette-table  in  the  other 
parlor.  Some  of  these  men,  we  were  told,  had 
served  terms  in  prison;  some  were  ship-wrecked 
bankers  and  brokers  and  money-dealers,  and 
some  were  going  their  first  rounds  of  vice— but 
all  intent  upon  the  table,  as  large  or  small  for- 
tunes moved  up  or  down  before  them.  Oh! 
there  was  something  awfully  solemn  in  the  si- 
lence—the intense  gaze,  the  suppressed  emotion 
of  the  players.  No  one  looked  up.  They  all  had 
money  in  the  rapids,  and  I  have  no  doubt  some 
saw,  as  they  sat  there,  horses  and  carriages,  and 
houses  and  lands,  and  home  and  family  rushing 
down  into  tho  vortex.  A  man's  life  would  not 
ha'sc  been  worth  a  farthing  in  that  presence  had 
he  hot  been  accompanied  by  the  police,  if  be  had 
been  supposed  to  be  on  a  Christian  errand  of 


observation.  Some  of  those  men  went  by  pri- 
vate key,  some  \font  in  by  caretul  introduction, 
some  wore  taken  in  l>y  tho  patrons  of  tho  estab- 
lishment. The  officer  of  tho  law  told  me:  "None 
gets  in  hero  except  by  police  mandate,  or  by  somi! 
letter  of  a  patron.  While  we  wore  there  a 
young  man  came  in,  put  Ins  money  down  on  the 
roiiletto-tablo,  and  lust;  put  more  mouoy  down 
on  tho  roulette-table,  and  lost;  put  moro  down 
on  tho  roulette-taljlo,  and  lost;  thou  feeling  in 
his  pockets  for  moro  money,  tindiug  none,  in  se- 
reno  silence  hu  turiiod  his  back  upon  tho  scene 
and  passed  out.  All  the  literature  about  the 
costly  magniliccuco  of  such  places  is  untrue. 
Moil  kept  their  hats  on  and  smoked,  and  there 
was  nothing  in  tlio  upholstery  or  tho  furniture  to 
forbid.  While  we  stood  thei'o  men  lost  their 
property  and  lost  their  souls.  Oh!  merciless 
place.  Not  once  in  all  tho  history  of  that  gaming- 
houso  has  there  been  one  word  of  sympathy  ut- 
tered for  the  losers  at  the  ganio.  Sir  Horace 
Walpolo  said  that  a  man  dropped  dead  in  front 
ofoueof  the  club-houses  of  Loudon;  his  body 
was  carried  into  the  club-house,  and  the  mem- 
bers oi  the  club  began  immediately  to  bet  as  to 
whether  ho  were  dead  or  alive,  and  when  it  was 
proposed  to  test  the  matter  by  bleeding  him,  it 
was  only  hindered  by  the  suggestion  that  it  would 
bo  uufaiv  to  some  of  the  playersl  In  these  gaming- 
houses of  our  cities,  men  have  their  property 
wrung  away  from  them,  and  then  they  go  out, 
some  of  them  to  drown  their  grief  in  strong 
drink,  some  to  ply  the  couutorfeiter's  pen  and  so 
restore  their  fortunes,  some  risort  to  the  sui- 
cide's revolver,  but  all  going  down,  and  that 
work  proceeds  day  by  day,  and  night  by  mght, 
until  it  18  estimatecl  that  every  day  in  Christen- 
dom $80,000,000  pass  from  hand  to  baud  through 
gambling  practices,  and  every  year  in  Christen- 
dom $123,100,000,000  change  hands  in  that  way. 
»»♦»** 

Standing  within  those  purlieus  of  death,  iinder 
the  command  of  the  police,  and  in  their  com- 
pany, I  was  as  much  surprised  at  the  people 
whom  I  missed  as  at  tho  people  whom  I  saw.  I 
saw  bankers  there,  and  brokers  there,  and  mer- 
chants there,  and  men  of  all  classes  and  occupa- 
tions, who  have  leisure,  there;  but  there  was  one 
class  of  persons  that  I  missed.  I  looked  for 
them  all  up  and  down  the  galleries,  and  amid 
the  illumined  gardens,  and  all  up  aud  down  the 
staircases  of  death.  I  saw  not  one  of  them.  1 
mean  the  hard-working  classes,  the  laboring 
classes,  of  our  great  cities.  You  tell  me  they 
could  not  afford  to  go  there.  They  could.  En- 
trance, twenty-five  cents.  They  could  have  gone 
there  if  they  had  a  mind  to;  but  the  simple  fact 
is  that  hard  work  is  a  friend  to  good  morals. 
Tho  men  who  toil  from  early  morn  until  late  at 
night  when  they  go  home  are  tired  out,  and 
want  to  sit  down  and  rest,  or  to  saunter  out  with 
tho  families  along  the  street,  or  to  pass  into  some 
quiet  place  of  amusement  whero  they  will  not  be 
ashamed  to  lake  wife  or  daughter.  Tho  busy 
populations  of  these  cities  are  tho  moral  popula- 
tions. I  observed,  on  tho  night  of  our  explora- 
tion, that  the  places  of  dissipation  are  cniefly 
supported  by  tho  men  who  go  to  business  at  nine 
and  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  get  through 
at  three  and  four  in  tho  afternoon.  They  have 
plenty  of  time  to  go  to  destruction  in  it,  and 
plenty  of  money  to  buy  a  through  ticket  on  the 
Grand  Trunk  Railroad  to  perdition,  stopping  at 
no  depot  until  they  got  to  the  eternal  smash-up! 
Those  are  tho  fortunate  and  divinely-blessed 
young  men  who  have  to  breakfast  early  and  take 
supper  late,  aud  have  the  entire  interregnum 
filled  up  with  work  that  blisters  tho  hands,  and 
makes  tue  legs  ache  and  the  brain  weary.  There 
IS  no  chanco  for  tho  morals  of  that  young  man 
who  has  plenty  of  money  aud  no  occupation. 
You  may  go  from  Central  Park  to  tho  Battery,  or 
you  may  go  from  Fulton  Street  Ferry,  Brooklyn, 
but  to  South  Bushwick,  or  out  to  Hunter's  Point, 
or  out  to  Gowanus,  and  you  will  not  find  one 
young  man  of  that  kind  who  has  not  already 
achieved  his  ruin,  or  who  is  not  on  the  way 
thereto  at  the  rate  of  sixty  miles  tho  hour.  Those 
are  not  tho  favored  and  divinely-blessed  young 
men  who  com©  and  go  as  they  will,  ana  who 
have  their  pocket-case  full  of  the  best  cigars, 
and  who  dine  at  Dclmonico's,  and  who  dress  in 
tho  tip-top  of  fashion,  their  garments  a  little 
tighter  or  looser  or  broader-striped  than  others, 
their  mustaches  twisted  with  stitfer  cosmetic,  and 
their  hair  redolent  with  costly  pomatum,  and 
have  their  hat  set  farthest  over  on  tho  right  ear, 
and  who  have  boots  fitting  the  foot  with  exquisite 
torture,  and  who  have  handkerchiefs  soaked  with 
musk,  and  patchouli,  and  white  rose,  and  new- 
mown  hay,  and  "balm  of  a  thousand  flowers;" 
but  those  are  the  fortunate  young  men  who  have 
to  work  hard  for  a  living.  Give  a  young  man 
plenty  of  wines,  and  plenty  of  cigars,  and  plentv 


of  fiue  horses,  and  Satan  has  no  anxiety  about 
that  young  man  coming  out  at  his  place.  Ho 
ceases  t'j  watch  hiUi,  only  giving  directions  about 
his  rcceptiou  when  he  shall  arrive  at  tho  end  of 
tho  journey.  If,  on  tlio  uiglitof  our  exploration, 
I  had  called  the  roll  of  all  tho  laijoriiig  men  oi 
these  cities,  I  would  have  received  no  answer,  for 
the  simple  reason  they  were  not  there  to  answer.  I 
was  not  more  surprised  at  tho  people  uhoiii  I 
saw  there  than  I  was  surprised  at  the  people 
whom  1  niissod.  Oh!  man,  if  you  liave  an  occu- 
pation by  which  you  are  wearied  every  night  of 
your  life,  thank  God,  for  it  is  the  mightiest  prc- 
scrvalivo  against  evil. 

I  unroll  the  scroll  of  new  revelations.  With 
city  missionary,  and  the  police  of  Now  York  and 
Brooklyn,  I  have  seen  some  things  that  I  havo 
not  yet  stated  in  this  series  ot  discourses  on  tho 
night  side  of  city  lile.  The  night  of  which  I  speak 
now  18  darker  than  any  other.  No  glittering 
chandelier,  no  blazing  mirror  adorns  it.  It  is 
the  long,  deep,  exhaustive  night  of  city  pauper- 
ism. "  Wo  won't  want  a  carriage  to-night,"  said 
tho  detectives.  "  A  carriage  would  hinder  ui  in 
our  work;  a  carriage  going  through  the  streets 
where  we  arc  going  would  only  bring  out  the 
people  to  see  what  was  tho  matter."  So  on  foot 
we  went  up  tho  dark  lanes  of  poverty.  Every- 
thing revolting  to  eye,  and  ear,  and  nostril. 
Population  unwashed,  uncombed.  Booms  un- 
ventilated.  Three  midnights  overlapping  each 
other — midnight  of  tho  natural  world,  midnight 
of  crime,  luidnight  of  pauperism.  Stairs  oozing 
with  tilth.  The  inmates  nine-tenths  of  the  jour- 
ney to  their  final  doom  traveled.  They  started 
in  some  unhappy  homo  of  the  city  or  of  the 
country.  They  p'lunged  into  the  shambles  of 
death  within  ten  minutes"  walk  of  the  Fifth  Ave- 
nue Hotel,  New  York,  and  then  came  on  gradu- 
ally down  until  they  have  arrived  at  the  Fourth 
Ward.  When  they  move  out  of  tho  Fourth  Ward 
they  will  move  into  Bellevue  Hospital;  when 
they  move  out  of  Bellevue  Hospital  they  will 
move  to  Black  well's  Island;  when  they  movo 
from  BlackweU's  Island  they  will  movo  to  tho 
Potter's  Field;  when  they  move  from  the  Potter's 
Field  they  will  move  into  hell!  Bellevue  Hospi- 
tal and  BlackweU's  Island  take  care  of  eighteen 
thousand  patients  in  one  year.  As  we  passed  on, 
the  rain  pattering  on  the  street,  and  dripping 
around  the  doorways,  made  the  night  more  dis- 
mal. I  said:  "  Now,  let  tho  police  go  ahead," 
and  they  flashed  their  light,  and  there  were  four- 
teen persons  trying  to  sleep,  or  sleeping,  in  ono 
room.  Some  on  a  bundle  of  straw;  more  with 
nothing  under  them  and  nothing  over  them. 
"  Oh!  ''you  say,  "  this  is  exceptional."  It  is  not. 
Thousands  lodge  iu  that  way.  Ono  hundred 
and  seventy  thousand  families  living  in  tene- 
ment houses,  iu  more  or  less  inconvenience -- 
moro  or  less  squalor.  Half  a  million  people  iu 
New  York  City — five  hundred  thousand  people 
living  in  tenement  houses;  multitudes  of  these 
people  dying  by  inches.  Of  the  twenty-four 
thousand  that  die  yearly  in  New  York,  fourteen 
thousand  die  in  tenement  houses.  No  lungs  that 
God  ever  made  could  for  a  long  time  stand  the 
atmosphere  .we  breathed  for  a  little  while.  Iu 
the  Fourth  Ward,  seventeen  thousand  people 
within  tho  space  of  thirty  acres.  You  say:  "  Why 
not  clear  them  out?  Why  not,  as  at  Liverpool, 
whero  twenty  thousand  of  these  people  were 
cleared  outot  the  city,  and  tho  city  saved  from  a 
moral  pestilence,  and  the  people  themselves 
from  being  victimized  ?  "  There  will  be  no  ref- 
ormation for  these  cities  until  the  tenement  house 
system  is  entirely  broken  up.  Tho  city  authori- 
ties will  have  to  buy  farms,  and  will  have  to  put 
these  people  on  those  farms,  and  compel  them 
to  worlc.  By  tho  strong  arm  of  tho  law,  by  the 
police  lantern  conjoined  with  Christian  charity, 
these  places  must  be  exposed  and  must  bo  up- 
rooted. Those  places  in  London  which  have  be- 
come historical  for  crowded  populations- St. 
Giles,  Whitechapel,  Holbom,  tho  Strand— havo 
their  match  at  last  in  the  Sixth  Ward,  Eleventli 
Ward,  Fourteenth  W^ard,  Seventeenth  Ward  of 
New  York.  No  purification  for  our  cities  until 
each  family  shall  have  something  of  tho  privacy 
and  seclusion  of  a  homo  circle.  As  long  as  they 
herd  like  beasts  they  w.U  be  beasts. 

Hark!  What  is  that  heavy  thud  on  the  wet 
pavement?  Why,  that  is  a  drunkard  who  has 
fallen,  his  head  striking  against  the  street— strik- 
ing very  hard.  The  police  try  to  lift  him  up. 
Ring  tho  bell  for  the  city  ambulance.  No.  Ouly 
an  outcast,  only  a  taiterdemalion — a  heap  oY 
sores  and  rags.  But  look  again.  Perhaps  he 
has  some  marks  of  manhood  on  his  face;  per- 
haps he  may  havo  been  made  in  tho  image  of 
God;  perhaps  he  has  a  soul  which  will  live  after 
tho  dripping  heavens  of  this  dismal  night  have 
been  rolled  together  as  a  scroll;  perhaps  he  mar 

\ 


44 


THE   GREAT    EMPIRE   CLTY. 


have  been  died  for  by  a  king;  perhaps  lio  may 
yet  be  a  conqueror  charioted  in  the  Bplendora  of 
"heavenly  welcome.  But  wo  must  pass  on.  We 
cross  the  street,  and  the  rain  beating  in  his  face, 
lies  a  man  entirely  uucousciotis.  I  wonder  where 
he  came  from.  I  wonder  if  any  one  is  waiting 
for  him.  I  wonder  if  he  was  ever  rocked  in  a 
Chnstian  cradle.  I  wonder  if  that  gashed  and 
bloated  forehead  was  ever  kissed  by  a  fond 
mother's  lips.  I  wonder  if  he  is  stranded  for 
eternity.  But  wc  cannot  stop.  We  passed  on 
down,  the  air  loaded  with  blasphemies  and  ob- 
scenities, until  I  suddenly  heard  something  that 
astounded  me  more  than  all.  I  said,  "What  is 
that?"  It  was  a  loud,  enthusiastic  Christian 
song  rolling  out  on  the  stormy  air.  I  went  up  to 
the  window  and  looked  in.  There  was  a  room 
filled  with  all  sorts  of  people,  some  standing, 
some  kneeling,  some  sitting,  some  singing,  some 
prajnng,  some  shaking  bands  as  if  to  give  en- 
couragement, some  wringing  their  bands  as 
though  over  a  wasted  bfe.  What  was  this  ?  Oh! 
it  was  Jerry  McAuley's  glorious  Christian  mis- 
sion. There  he  stood,  himself  snatched  from 
death,  snatching  others  from  death.  That  scene 
paid  lor  all  the  nausea  and  fatigue  of  the  mid- 
night exploration.  Our  tears  fell  with  the  rain — 
tears  of  sympathy  for  a  good  man's  work;  tears 
of  gratitude  to  God  that  one  lifeboat  had  been 
launched  on  that  wild  sea  of  sin  and  death;  tears 
of  hope  that  there  might  be  lifeboats  enough  to 
take  off  all  the  wrecked,  and  that,  after  a  while, 
the  Church  of  God,  rousing  from  its  fastidious- 
ness, might  lay  hold  with  both  hands  of  this 
work,  which  must  be  done  if  our  cities  are  not  to 
go  down  in  darkness  and  fire  and  blood. 

This  cluster  of  cities  have  more  difficulty  than 
any  other  cities  in  all  the  land.  You  must  un- 
derstand that  within  the  last  twenty-eight  years 
five  millions  of  foreign  population  have  arrived 
at  our  port.  The  most  of  those  who  had  capital 
and  means  passed  on  to  the  greater  openings  at 
the  West.  Many,  however,  stayed,  and  have  be- 
come our  best  citizens,  and  best  members  of  our 
churches;  but  we  know  also  that,  tarrying  with- 
in our  borders,  there  has  been  a  vast  criminal 
population,  ready  to  be  manipulated  by  the  dem- 
agogue, ready  to  hatch  out  all  kinds  of  criminal 
desperation.  The  vagrancv  and  the  beggary  of 
onr  cities,  augmented  by  the  very  worst  popula- 
tions of  London,  and  Edinburgh]!  and  Glasgow, 
and  Berlin,  and  Belfast,  and  Dublin,  and  Cork. 
We  had  enough  vagabondage,  and  enough  turpi- 
tude, in  our  American  cities,  before  this  importa- 
tion of  Bin  was  dumped  at  Castle  Garden.  Oh! 
this  pauperism,  when  will  it  ever  be  alleviated  ? 
How  much  we  saw!  IIow  much  we  could  not  see! 
How  much  none  but  the  eye  of  Almighty  God 
ever  will  seel  Flash  the  lantern  of  the  police 
around  to  the  station-house.  There  they  come  up, 
the  poor  creatures,  tipping  their  torn  hats,  say- 
ing, "  Night's  lodgings,  eir '!  "  And  then  they  are 
waved  away  into  the  dormitories.  One  hundred 
and'torty  thousand  such  lodgers  in  the  City  of  New 
York  every  year.  The  atmosphere  unbearable. 
What  pathos  in  the  fact  that  many  families, 
turned  out  of  doors  because  they  cannot  pay 
their  rent,  come  in  here  for  shelter,  and  after 
struggling  for  decency,  and  struggling  for  a  good 
name,  are  flung  into  this  loathsome  pool.  The 
respectable  and  the  reprobate.  Innocent  child- 
hood and  vicious  old  age.  The  Lord's  poor  and 
Satan's  desperadoes.  There  is  no  report  of 
almshouse  and  missionary  that  will  ever  tell  the 
story  of  New  York  and  Brooklyn  pauperism.  It 
will  take  a  larger  book,  a  book  with  more  pon- 
derous hds,  a  book  made  of  paper  other  than 
that  of  earthly  manufacture.  'The  book  of  God's 
remembrancel  At  my  basement  door  we  aver- 
age between  fifty  and  one  hundred  calls  everyday 
for  help.  Beside  that,  in  my  receptiou-room,  from 
seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  ten  o'clock  at 
night,  there  is  a  continuous  procession  of  people 
applying  for  aid,  making  a  demand  which  an  old- 
Jasnioued  silken  purse  caught  at  the  middle  with 
a  ring,  the  wealth  of  Vanderbilt  in  one  end  and 
the  wealth  of  William  B.  Astor  in  the  other  end, 
could  not  satisfy.  Of  course,  I  speak  of  those 
men's  wealth  while  they  lived.  We  have  more 
money  now  than  they  have  since  they  have  their 
shroud  on.  But  even  the  shroud  anil  the  grave, 
we  find,  are  to  be  contested  for.  Cursed  be  the 
midnight  jackals  of  St.  Mark's  Churchyardl  But 
I  must  go  on  with  the  fact  that  the  story  of 
Brooklyn  and  New  York  pauperism  needs  to  be 
written  in  ink  black,  blue  and  red— blue  for  the 
stripes,  red  for  the  blood,  black  for  the  infamy. 
In  this  cluster  of  cities  20,000  people  supported 
by  the  bureau  for  the  outdoor  sick;  20,000  people 
taken  care  of  by  the  city  hospitals;  70,000  pro- 
vided for  by  private  charity;  80,000  taken  care  of 
by  reformatory  institutions  and  prisons.  Hear 
it,  ye  churches,  and  pour  out  your  benefaction. 
Hear  it,  ye  ministers  of  religion,  and  utter  words 


of  sympathy  for  the  suffering,  and  thunders  of 
indignation  against  the  cause  of  all  this  wretched- 
ness. Hear  it,  mayoralities,  and  judicial  bench, 
and  constabularies.  Unless  we  wake  up,  the 
Lord  will  scourge  us  as  the  yellow  fever  never 
scourged  New  Orleans,  as'the  plague  never 
smote  London,  as  the  earthquake  never  shook 
Caraccas,  as  the  fire  never  whelmed  Sodom.  I 
wish  I  could  throw  a  bombshell  of  arousal  into 
every  city  hall,  meeting-house  and  cathedral  on 
the  continent.  The  factories  at  Fall  River  and  at 
Lowell  sometimes  stop  for  lack  of  demand,  and 
for  lack  of  workmen,  but  this  million-roomed 
factory  of  sin  and  death  never  stops,  never  slack- 
ens a  band,  never  arrests  a  spindle.  The  great 
wheel  of  that  factory  keeps  on  turning,  not  by 
such  floods  as  those  of  the  Merrimac  or  the  Con- 
necticut, but  crimson  floods  rushing  forth  from 
the  groggeries,  and  the  wine-cellars,  and  the 
drinking  saloons  of  the  land,  and  the  faster  the 
floods  rush  the  faster  the  wheel  turns;  and  the 
band  of  that  wheel  is  woven  from  broken  heart- 
strings, and  every  time  the  wheel  turns,  from  the 
mouth  of  the  mul  come  forth  blasted  estates, 
squalor,  vagrancy,  crime,  sin,  woe— individual 
woe,  municipal  woe,  national  woe — and  the 
creaking  and  the  rumbling  of  the  wheel  are  the 
shrieks  and  the  groans  of  men  and  women  lost 
for  two  worlds,  and  the  cry  is,  "Bring on  more 
fortunes,  more  homes,  more  States,  more  cities, 
to  make  up  the  awful  grist  of  this  stupendous 
mill."  "  Oh,'"  you  say,  "  the  wretchedness  and 
the  sin  of  the  city  will  go  out  from  lack  of  material 
alter  a  while."  No,  it  will  not.  The  police  lan- 
tern flashes  in  another  direction.  Here  come 
15,000  shoeless,  hatless,  homeless  children  of  the 
street  in  this  cluster  of  cities.  They  are  the  re- 
serve corps  of  this  great  army  of  wretchedness 
and  crime  that  are  dropping  down  into  the 
Morgue,  the  East  Eiver,  the  Potter's  Field,  the 
prison.  A  philanthropist  has  estimated  that  if 
these  children  were  placed  in  a  great  procession, 
double  file,  three  feet  apart,  they  would  make  a 
procession  eleven  miles  long.  Oh!  what  a  pale, 
coughing,  hunger-bitten,  sin-cursed,  ophthalmic 
throng— the  tigers,  the  adders,  the  scorpions, 
ready  to  bite  and  sting  society,  which  they  take 
to  be'  their  natural  enemy.  Howard  Mission  has 
saved  many.  Children's  Aid  Society  has  saved 
many.  Industrial  schools  have  saved  many. 
One  of  these  societies  transported  30,000  children 
from  the  streets  of  our  cities  to  farms  at  the 
West,  by  a  stratagem  of  charity  turning  them 
from  vagrancy  into  useful  citizenship,  and  out  of 
21,000  children  thus  transported  from  the  cities 
to  farms,  only  twelve  turned  out  badly.  But  still 
the  reserve "  corps  oJ  sin  and  wretchedness 
marches  on.  There  is  the  regiment  of  bootblacks. 
They  seem  jolly,  but  they  have  more  sorrow  than 
many  an  old  man  has  had.  All  kinds  of  tempta- 
tion. Working  on,  making  two  or  three  dollars  a 
week.  At  fifteen  years  of  age  sixty  years  old  in 
sin.  Pitching  pennies  at  the  street  corners. 
Smokuig  fragments  of  castaway  cigars.  Tempted 
by  the  gamblers.  Destroyed  "by  the  top-gallery 
in  the  low  play-house.  Blackening  shoes  their 
regular  business.  Between  times  blackening 
their  morals.  "Shine  your  boots,  sir ?"  they 
call  out  with  merry  voices,  but  there  is  a  tremor 
in  their  accentuation.  Who  cares  for  them  t 
You  put  your  toot  thoughtlessly  on  their  stand, 
and  you  whistled,  or  smoked,  when  God  knows 
you  inight  have  given  them  one  kind  word.  They 
never  had  one.  Whoever  prayed  for  a  bootblack  ? 
Who,  finding  the  wind  blowing  under  the  short 
jacket,  or  reddening  his  bare  neck,  ever  asked 
him  to  warm  ?  Who,  when  he  is  wronged  out  of 
his  ten  cents,  demands  justice  for  himy  Gtod 
have  mercy  on  the  bootblacks.  The  newsboys 
another  regiment— the  smartest  bovs  in  all  the 
city.  At  work  at  four  o'clock  in  tbe  morning. 
At  half-past  three,  by  unnatural  vigilance,  awake 
themselves,  or  pulled  at  by  rough  hands.  In  the 
dawn  of  the  day  standing  before  the  folding  rooms 
of  the  great  newspapers,  taking  the  wet,  damp 
sheets  over  their  arms,  and  against  their  chests 
already  shivering  with  the  cold.  Around  the  bleak 
ferries,  and  up  and  down  the  streets,  on  the  cold 
days,  singing  as  merrily  as  though  it  were  a 
Christmas    carol;  making  half  a  cent  on  each 

Eaper,  some  of  them  worKing  fourteen  hours  for 
fty  cents!  Nine  thousand  of  these  newsboys 
applied  for  aid  at  the  Newsboys'  Lodging-house 
on  New  Chambers  Street  in  one  year.  About 
one  thousand  of  them  laid  up  in  the  savings  bank 
connected  with  that  institution  a  httle  more  than 
$3,000.  But  still  this  great  army  marches  on, 
hungry,  cold,  sick,  toward  an  early  grave  or  a 
quick  prison.  I  tell  you  there  is  nothing  that  so 
moves  my  compassion  as  on  a  cold  winter  morn- 
ing to  see  one  of  these  newsboys,  a  fourth  clad, 
newspapers  on  his  arm  that  he  cannot  seem  to 
sell,  tace  or  hands  bleeding  from  a  fall,  or  rub- 
bing his  knee  to  relieve  it  from  having  been  hit 


on  the  side  of  a  car,  as  some  "  gentleman  "  with 
furs  around  hia  neck  and  gauntlets  lined  with 
lamb's  wool,  slioved  him  off,  saymg:  "You  mis- 
erable rat!  "  Yet  hawking  the  papers  through  the 
streets,  papers  full  of  railroad  accidents  and 
factory  explosions,  and  steamers  foundering  at 
sea  in  the  last  storm,  yet  saying  nothing,  and  that 
which  is  to  him  worse  than  all  the  other  calami- 
ties and  all  the  other  disasters,  the  calamity  that 
he  was  ever  born  at  all.  Flash  the  police  lantern 
around,  and  let  us  see  these  poor  lads  cuddled 
up  under  the  stairway.  Lookattheml  Now  for 
a  httle  while  they  are  unconscious  of  all  their 
pains  and  aches,  and  of  the  storm  and  the  dark- 
ness, once  in  a  while  struggling  in  their  dreams 
as  though  some  one  were  trymg  to  take  the  papers 
away  from  them.  Standing  there,  I  wondered  if 
it  would  be  right  to  wish  that  they  might  never 
wake  up.  God  pity  them!  There  are  other 
regiments  in  this  reserve  corjis — regiments  of 
rag-pickers,  regiments  of  match-sellers,  regi- 
ments of  juvenile  vagrants.  Oh!  if  these  lads 
are  not  saved,  what  is  to  become  of  our  citit's  '.' 


THE  DYINS  NEWSBOY. 


Ix  an  attic  bare  and  cheerless.  Jim,  the  newslniy, 

dying  lay. 
On  a  rough  but  clean  straw  pallet,  at  the  fading  of 

the  day ; 
Scant  tlie  furniture  about  him,  but  brigbt  flowers 

were  in  the  room. 
Crimson  phloxes,  wa.vi'u  lilies,   roses  laileii   wiili 

perfume. 
On  a  table  by  the  bedside,  open  at  a  well-worn  paite. 
Where  the  mother  had  been  reading,  lay  a  Bible 

stained  by  age. 
Now  he  could  not  hear  the  voices;  he  was  flighty, 

and  she  wept. 
With  her  arms  around  her  youngest,  who  close  to 

her  side  had  crept. 

Blacking  boots  and  selling  papers,  in  all  weathers 

day  by  day. 
Brought  upon  poor  Jim  consumption,  which  was 

eating  life  away. 
And  this  cry  came  with  his  anguish,  for  each  breath 

a  struggle  cost. 
"  'Ere's  the  morning  Sun  and  '£/'<iM— latest  news  of 

steamship  lost. 
Papers,  mister?    Morning  pa pera? '"    Then  the  cry 

fell  to  a  moan. 
Which  was  changed  a  moment  later  to  another 

frenzied  tone: 
"Black  yer  boots,  sir?    Just  a  nickel'    Shine 'em 

like  an  even-star. 
It  grows  late.  Jack!    Xight  is  coming.    Evening 

papers,  here  they  are: " 

Soon  a  mission  teacher  entered,  and  approached 

the  humble  bed; 
Then  poor  Jim's  mind  cleared  an  instant,  with  his 

cool  hand  on  his  head. 
■' Teacher,'' cried  he,  "I  remember  what  you  said 

the  other  day; 
Ma's  been  reading  of  the  Saviour,  and  through  Him 

I  see  my  way. 
He  is  with  raef   Jack.  I  charge  you  of  our  mother 

take  good  care 
When  Jim's  gone:    Hark!  boots  or  papers,  whioli 

win  I  t)e  over  there  ? 
Black  yer  l)oot9.  sir?    Shine 'em  right  up!    Tapeis! 

Read  God's  book  instead, 
Better'n  papers  that  to  die  on:    Jack "  one  gasp, 

and  Jim  was  dead! 

Floating  from  that  attic  chamber  came  the  teacher's 

voice  In  prayer. 
And  it  soothed"  the  bitter  sorrow  of  the  mourners 

kneeling  there. 
He  commended  them  to  Heaven,  while  the  tears 
I         rolled  down  his  face. 
j  Thanking  God  that  Jim  had  listened  to  sweet  words 

of  peace  and  grace. 
Ever  'mid  the  want  and  squalor  of  the  wretched 

and  the  poor, 
Kind  hearts  find  a  ready  welcome,  and  an  always 

open  door. 
For  the  sick  are  in  strange  places,  mourning  hearts 

are  everywhere. 
And  such  need  the  voice  of  kindness,  need  sweet 

sympathy  and  prayer. 


TWO  PEASES  OF  CITY  UFE. 


DwitxEBS  in  remote  villages  and  farm-houses 
escape,  comparatively  speaking,  one  trouble 
whicn  is  constant  with  us  in  the  metropolis  and 
throughout  the  Union  in  towns  and  cities.  We 
love  music,  and  bear  the  utmost  good-will  to  the 
professors  of  this  humanizing  art.  But  in  order 
to  our  personal  gratification,  a  prolonged  ex- 

Serience  of  street  noises  of  all  kinds  has  ren- 
ered  us  fastidious  as  to  the  quality  of  the  strains 
which  are  rendered  in  our  hearing.  The  noises 
of  the  citv  are  sufficiently  distracting  without 
augmentation  from  braying  and  discordant 
bauds.  Our  good  friends,  the  Germans,  who 
make  on   the  whole  such  excellent  citizens— so 


TME   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


45 


orderly,  intelligent  aud  industrioua— will  forgive 
U8  that  wo  lay  to  their  charge  one  of  the  worst 
inllictioua  to  bo  uudergouo  iu  city  reaideuce. 
Quietly  aittiug  alouo  iu  the  aludy,  or  in  the  eii- 
joyiiieut  of  couveraatiott  with  ouo'a  wife  or  a 
,fnoud,  how  pitilcHS  la  tho  shock  to  the  nervous 
■yatem  caused  by  a  sudden  blast  trotu  tho  rued 
aud  brass  lUHtruiueulB  of  a  band  from  the  father- 
land; aud  how  porvoraely  these  destroyers  of 
our  peace  of  luind,  and  cruel  disturbers  of  our 
physical  equilibrium,  coutiuuo  tho  iiitlictiou  'I 
Not  that  there  are  not  traveling  musicians  of  the 
nation  of  Handel  who  wortluly  accredit  theui- 
Holves  to  bu  thoroughly  capable  in  their  arc,  but 
theso  are  few  in  number.  As  a  rule,  able  per- 
formera  need  not  wander  from  town  to  town  and 
live  hardly  aud  precariously  as  "  tooting  "  vaga- 
bonds do,  the  most  of  them.  It  ia  somewhat 
mysterious  to  ua,  wo  admit,  that  they  generally 
are  ao  strong  and  well  apparently,  atout  of  limb 
aud  their  countonances  ruddy  with  health. 
That  they  are  thus  ia  a  powerful  argument  in 
favor  of  plenty  of  exorcise  taken  in  tho  open  air 
and  associated  with  aparo  and  aimple  living. 
Pampered,  luxurioua  people  do  not  look  as  thev, 
and  they  never  will  until  they  reform  their  nioae 
of  life. 

Not  to  be  too  hard  upon  the  Teutonic  wander- 
ers, whose  noisy  ministratioDs  trouble  us  so 
much,  we  can  at  least  claim  lor  them  that  they 
abuse  their  livoa  less  than  their  brother  tramps, 
who  do  nothing  but  beg  or  steal  in  their  pere- 
gnnationa.  This  does  not  justify  their  probable 
indisposition  to  work  otherwise  tlian  iu  a  man- 
ner which  ia  not,  on  the  whole,  a  public  bleaaing. 
But  we  would  not  forget  that  children  are  apt  to 
enjoy  anything  in  the  world  which  may  be  called 
music.  Inexperienced  and  healthy,  they  will 
dance  iu  the  glee  of  their  young  hearts  to  the 
grosaeat  perveraions  of  the  muaical  art;  and  ao 
we  will  try  to  be  content— very  much  because  we 
cannot  do  otherwise,  we  fear — with  that  which 
makes  them  happy. 

There  are  streets  in  this  metropolis,  the  very 
meanest  of  tho  mean,  where  musical  and  other 
tramps  find  accommodations.  Here  they  lie 
down  in  their  daytime  clothing,  and  in  a  stifling 
atmosphere  snore  away  the  hours  of  the  night. 
Happy,  we  are  disposed  to  think,  must  be  the 
change  to  the  warm  atraw  in  the  barn,  or  the 
less  crowded  (piarters  m  amaller  towna  when 
they  are  taking  a  round  for  the  benefit  (?)  of  our 
friends  in  tho  country. 

City  life  presenta  uoaadder  consideration  than 
that  childhood  aud  youth  are  so  largely  abused 
to  the  prejudice  of  order  and  honesty.  There 
are  in  New  York,  3,000  professional  thieves  of 
different  claaaea.  On  the  principle  that  "  birda 
of  a  feather  flock  together,  these  people  crowd 
each  other  in  quarters  known  to  the  police  and 
the  public  aa  disreputable  aud  dangerous.  They 
are  ot  all  ages,  from  gray-haired  men  and  women 
who  have  retired  from  the  activities  of  life,  to 
tender  children,  unmatructed  in  everything  pure 
and  good,  who,  from  the  firat  dawn  of  intelli- 
gence, are  taught  how  to  war  upon  society — lost 
from  their  very  birth.  The  boys  are  taiight  by 
"  old  Experience  "  how  to  take  the  pocket-hand- 
kerchief and  purse  with  least  risk  of  detection. 
Dickens  has  described  this  lesson  in  one  of  his 
best  known  stories.  There  is  the  dressed  dum- 
my, upou  which  haug  bells  to  ring  in  case  the 
young  practitioner  manipulates  clumsily  in  his 
endeavor  to  get  at  the  handkerchief "  in  the 
pocket.  The  veteran  sinner  superintends  the 
lessou,  which  he  enforces  by  alternate  coaxing 
and  threatening.  An  advanced  pupil  interested- 
ly contemplates  the  progress  of  another  in  a  road 
over  which  he  has  already  trodden.  Within  a 
few  weeks,  probably,  the  young  Arab— insensi- 
ble, aa  yet,  of  wrong-doing,  for  his  moral  con- 
sciousness ia  a  stranger  to  enlightenment  and 
culture — will  be  sent  out  to  make  hia  living  on 
the  atreet,  and  if  he  returns  with  apoil  wiU  be 
applauded,  if  without  will  be  mercileaaly 
whipped.  It  will  be  well  for  him  that  he  doea 
not  return  at  all;  that  a  policeman  arreata  him 
in  tho  attempt  to  steal,  and  he  is  consigned  to 
a  reformatory  school,  and  taught  the  way  to  grow 
up  to  be  a  working  man  and  not  a  thief,  a  help 
and  not  a  drawback  to  the  progress  of  society. 
.Should  it  be  otherwise  with  him,  the  thief  of 
trifles  will  grow  up  into  the  flash  pickpocket  or 
the  burglar,  carrying  his  life  in  hia  hand  in  hia 
perilous  adventures  into  the  houaes  of  people 
who  command  the  wealth  to  render  the  deapoil- 
ing  of  their  homes  a  paying  nak  to  run.  Sooner 
or  later,  probably,  retribution  will  overtake  him. 
Perhaps  a  pistol  ball  will  terminate  hia  life,  or 
he  will  aerve  out  one  term  of  impriaonment  and 
another  and  another— an  outcast,  a  hopeless 
Ishmaelite.  And  how  many  there  are  of  his  class 
who  degenerate  into  such  a  shocking  disregard 
of  the  value  of  life,  thatu*  quarrel  or  in  the  pur- 


suit of  a  burglarious  intention,  they  will  not 
scruple  to  commit  murder,  and  termiuato  their 
miserable  lives  at  the  haudJi  of  the  executioner. 


BLACK-MAILING  AS  AN  AET. 

(From  "  iiuiuihiiie  and  S?iail<>w  iii.  A>io  York,'' by 
Matthew  Hale  smith.) 

New  York  ia  full  of  adroit  rogues.  Men  and 
women  abound  here  who  live  by  their  wits.  Hid- 
ing thoniselvea  in  the  multitude  of  our  people, 
watching  their  chances  and  tboir  victims,  they 
are  seldom  detected.  Blaok-mailiiig  is  reduced 
to  a  system.  It  is  carried  on  by  street-walkers, 
stragglers  on  the  pavement,  loungera  about  ho- 
tela,  keepers  of  dance-cellars,  panel-thieves,  and 
criminals  of  all  grades.  In  cases  of  black-mail- 
ing, whore  relief  is  at  once  sought,  the  detective 
force  are  often  able  to  restore  the  money.  Usu- 
ally the  victim  criminates  himself  so  far  that  he 
ia  unwilling  to  appear  before  tho  courts;  so  that 
if  the  money  is  restored,  which  is  seldom  tho 
caae,  the  rogue  escapes.  Men  come  to  New  York 
to  see  "  the  elephant."  They  are  not  fond  of  ex- 
hibiting their  wounds  if  they  are  struck  by  his 
trunk.  Itural  gentlemen,  who,  from  the  steps  of 
their  hotel,  follow  a  bland  stranger  who  offers  to 
show  tliem  the  sightu  of  the  city,  are  not  willing 
to  tell  how  they  lost  their  watches  or  purses. 
They  had  rather  lose  their  property  than  have 
their  names  get  into  the  paper.  The  black- 
mailers understand  this;  aud  when  they  rob  a 
man,  thev  ao  commit  the  victim,  that  he  can  make 
no  complaint  to  the  authoritiea  without  diahouor- 
ing  himaelf. 

A   WIOOWEB   BLACKMAILED. 

A  man  about  fifty-five  years  old  came  from  the 
rural  districts  to  spend  a  little  time  in  the  city. 
He  waa  wealthy,  reapectable,  and  the  father  of 
two  children.  He  selected  hia  quarters  up-town. 
Among  the  boarders  was  an  attractive  California 
widow.  Tho  widow  and  the  widower  soon  be- 
came quite  intimate.  Both  seemed  captivated. 
By  mutual  consent  a  suite  of  rooms  was  taken, 
handaomely  furniahed,  and  occupied  by  the  par- 
ties. A  few  daya  after  the  removal,  the  gentle- 
man was  greeted  with  an  unpleasant  surprise  on 
entering  his  room.  A  stranger  sat  in  hie  chair, 
who  announced  himself  as  tho  husband  of  tho 
woman,  and  demanded  heavy  damages  for  dis- 
honor done  to  his  name.  The  old  man  was  fright- 
ened nearly  out  of  hia  wits.  Had  he  gone  to  the 
police  force,  aud  put  himself  in  their  hands,  all 
would  have  been  well.  But  he  did  as  most  men 
do  under  such  circumstances — he  offered  a  large 
sum  of  money  to  hush  the  matter  up,  keep  it  out 
of  the  papers,  and  be  allowed  to  depart.  He 
paid  the  money,  settled  the  bills,  left  the  elegant 
lurniture,  packed  his  trunks  and  departed. 

He  was  not  lost  sight  of,  however,  for  a  mo- 
ment. The  parties  knew  their  man,  and  hia 
means;  knew  hia  standing,  and  the  value  he  put 
on  his  good  name.  He  was  dogged  constantly; 
he  was  drawn  upon  for  large  sums  of  money; 
he  was  threatened  with  exposure,  till,  driven  to 
desperation  and  almost  beggary,  ho  did  what  he 
should  have  done  at  first— went  to  the  police 
headquarters  and  made  a  clean  breast  of  it. 
The  chief  of  the  detectivea  took  the  case  into  his 
own  hands.  On  a  new  demand  for  money  being 
made,  the  chief  opened  a  negotiation,  through  a 
friend,  to  see  if  a  settlement  could  not  be  made, 
so  that  the  victim,  by  paying  a  certain  sum, 
might  bo  free  from  further  annoyance.  The 
chief  worked  up  the  husband.  He  turned  up 
too  conveniently  not  to  be  a  rogue.  He  waa 
tracked  to  Boston,  where  he  had  a  wife  and 
children  living.  The  Boston  marriage  was  es- 
tablished. The  black-mailera  were  met  at  the 
appointed  hour.  The  aum  demanded  was  agreed 
upon,  and  the  chief  was  ready  to  pay  the  money 
as  soon  as  the  parties  signed  a  receipt.  The 
adroit  rogues  declined  to  put  pen  to  paper,  and 
the  detective  dechned  to  pay  the  money  which 
he  held  in  his  hand.  Blustering  and  threaten- 
ing seemed  to  have  no  effect  on  the  resolute 
friend.  The  haudle  of  a  pistol  conveniently 
peeping  out  from  the  detective's  bosom,  and  the 
cool  manner  of  the  negotiator,  indicating  that  he 
knew  how  to  use  it,  admonished  the  black- 
mailers that  an  attempt  to  get  the  money  by  force 
would  not  succeed.  The  receipt  was  signed. 
The  chief  coolly  put  it  into  his  pocket,  with  the 
money  which  he  neld  in  hia  band.  The  rogues 
knew  at  once  he  was  a  detective.  The  principal 
one  claimed  the  woman  as  his  wife,  ana  aaid  be 
had  a  lawful  right  to  aettle  the  caae  as  he  pleased. 
"If  that  woman  is  your  wife,"  said  the  detec- 
tive, "then  111  try  you  for  bigamy,  and  send  you 
to  Sing  Sing."  Amid  much  blustering  and  many 
threats  he  was  taken  to  tho  Tombs.    He  was 


found  to  be  an  old  offender.  Graver  Crimea 
rose  up  against  hiiu.  Uo  was  tried,  aud  seut  to 
Hing  ISiug.  The  victim  waa  relieved  from  fur- 
ther i>it<irtion.  His  money,  gone,  could  not  be 
regained.  He  relurued  to  his  rural  home  satis- 
fied with  hia  New  York  experience. 

A   MINISTER   FALLS   AMO.NO   TBlEVEH. 

On  Broadway,  below  Fourteenth  Street,  stood 
a  church  that  at  ouo  time  was  one  of  tho  mom 
fashiouable  lu  the  city.  The  cougregalion  was 
wealthy  and  large,  the  minister  eloquent  and 
popular.  The  belles  of  the  city,  with  tiie  young 
and  the  fashionable,  crowded  the  church  when 
tho  pastor  lilled  the  pulpit.  In  the  full  flush  of 
his  popularity,  when  a  pew  could  not  be  hired  at 
any  price,  when  any  salary  would  have  been 
paid  to  him  that  he  demanded,  the  minister  dis- 
appeared. Quito  lato  on  Saturday  night  the 
vestry  received  a  letter  from  the  rector,  dated 
off  Sandy  Hook.  Tho  letter  tendered  the  rector'a 
lesignation,  and  announced  that  he  had  sailed 
that  day  at  noon  in  one  of  the  Cuuard  atoamcrs 
for  Europe.  Tho  parish  were  surprised  aud 
alarmed.  The  whole  afl'air  was  a  painful  mys- 
tery. Hero  was  a  minister,  settled  over  a  flour- 
ishing aud  liberal  charge,  with  a  fine  church 
and  parsonage,  a  church  crowded  with  the  elito 
of  the  city,  with  a  salary  equal  to  any  demands 
ho  might  make,  with  the  best  Bulging  in  the  city, 
and  all  the  popular  appliauces,  who  liad  sudden- 
ly resigned,  and  privately  left  tho  country,  to  go 
no  one  knew  where. 

The  story  is  a  romance.  The  explanation 
came  after  tho  minister  had  completed  his  Euro- 
pean tour.  At  midnight  the  door-bell  of  his 
parsonage  was  violently  rung.  Going  to  tho 
window,  the  minister  saw  a  man  standing  on  hia 
door-stone,  and  ho  demanded  his  business.  Ho 
came  with  a  message,  he  aaid,  from  a  dying 
woman.  Haatily  dresaing  himself,  the  good 
man  came  to  tho  door  and  received  the  measagc. 
Juat  around  the  block  was  a  poor  woman  and  she 
waa  dymg.  Her  only  treaaure  was  a  babe.  She 
could  not  die  in  peace  unless  her  babe  waa  bap- 
tized. If  his  reverence  would  come  to  her  dying 
pillow,  and  administer  that  aacrament,  the  bless- 
ing of  a  poor  dying  woman  would  bo  his  reward. 
It  was  much  to  ask,  aud  at  midnight  too,  but  his 
great  Master,  who  loved  the  poor,  would  not  have 
denied  such  a  request  as  this. 

His  humane  aud  religious  sympathies  were 
aroused,  and  tho  minister  followed  the  mesaen- 
ger.  Common  prudence  would  have  said,  "  Take 
a  policeman  with  you.  Call  up  a  friend,  and  get 
him  to  bear  part  iu  the  ceremony."  But,  dream- 
ing of  no  peril,  he  went  on  his  way  to  do,  as  he 
thought,  nis  Master's  will.  He  waa  soon  in  a 
dissolute  region,  in  a  street  notorious  for  its  un- 
cleanness.  The  messenger  knocked  at  a  heavy 
gate,  that  closed  up  a  narrow,  dark  alley.  It 
opened  immediately,  and  slammed  behind  the 
parties  like  a  prison  door.  Through  a  long, 
narrow,  and  unwholesome  entry,  that  aeemed  to 
be  an  alley-way  covered,  the  parties  took  their 
way.  They  passed  up  a  narrow  atair-caae,  brok- 
enand  rickety.  Lewd  women  were  passed  ou 
the  stairs.  Dark-featured  and  villainous-look- 
ing men  seemed  to  crowd  the  place.  With  his 
sacred  vestments  on  his  arm,  and  his  book  of 
service  in  his  hand,  the  minister  was  ushered 
into  a  dark  and  unwholesome  looking  room. 
The  door  was  closed  behind  him,  aud  locked.  A 
dim  candlo  on  the  table  revealed  the  outline  of  a 
dozen  persons,  male  and  female,  of  the  most 
abandoned  and  desperate  class.  His  inquiry 
for  the  sick  woman,  and  the  child  to  be  baptized, 
waa  greeted  by  shouts  of  laughter.  He  knew  he 
was  a  victim.  '  He  demanded  the  reason  for  this 
outrage.  He  waa  informed  that  hie  frienda  who 
had  invited  him  there  wanted  money.  His 
standing  and  character  were  well  known.  He 
waa  in  one  of  the  moat  notorious  houses  in  New 
York;  his  midnight  visit  to  that  place  waa  well 
known,  and  could  easily  be  proved.  If  he  paid 
one  thousand  dollars,  all  would  be  well.  If  not, 
his  ruin  waa  certain.  InstoAd  of  defying  the  vil- 
lains, calling  on  the  police,  or  confiding  in  his 
congregation,  he  thought  he  could  hush  the  mat- 
ter up.  He  might  have  known  that  it  would  all 
come  out,  and  that  every  dollar  he  paid  would 
be  used  as  evidence  against  him,  or  as  means  to 
extort  more.  But  he  was  thoroughly  frightened; 
would  not  have  tho  thing  known  for  the  world; 
hia  hand  was  in  the  lion's  mouth,  and  he  must 
draw  it  out  aa  easilv  as  he  could;  ao  he  gave  his 
obligation  to  pav  the  money  promptly  at  noon 
the  next  day,  which  he  did.  Of  course  new  de- 
mands were  made  from  time  to  time.  He  waa 
dogged  in  the  afreets.  Suapicioua-looking  men 
Btopped  to  apeak  with  him  on  the  comers.  No- 
torious men  rang  hia  door-bell.  Myaterious 
notea,  from  ignorant,  low-bred,  and  vioioua  per- 
aona— as  the  spelhng  and  language  showed— 


46 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


came  to  hia  bauds,  aud  iuto  the  hands  of  his 
family.  The  poor  man  was  nearly  distracted. 
He  paid  away  hia  own  money,  and  borrowed  till 
bis  reputation  suffered.  The  threat  of  exposure 
hung  over  him  like  an  ominous  sword  held  by  a 
hair.  In  a  moment  of  desperation  be  decided  to 
leave  the  country,  which  he  did,  to  the  astonish- 
ment and  regret  of  bis  friends. 

On  bis  return  from  Europe,  the  rector  settled 
In  Massacbusetta,  over  a  small  rural  parish.  He 
was  soon  tracked  to  bis  country  home.  Black- 
mailing was  renewed.  Hia  old  terror  came  upon 
him.  Again  he  acceded  to  the  extortion.  The 
police  of  New  York  at  lengtli  came  to  bis  relief. 
lu  searching  for  oiher  game,  tliey  came  upon 
proof  that  this  minister  was  in  the  hands  of 
black-mailers.  Letters  were  found  containing 
Information  of  bis  whereabouts,  bow  to  terrify 
him,  what  sums  to  demand,  and  at  what  time 
his  salary  was  due.  He  was  relieved  from  his 
pursuers.  The  large  sums  he  had  paid  were 
not  refunded.  His  spirits  were  broken,  and  he 
has  never  recovered  bis  position.  I  saw  him  not 
long  since  in  Canada.  He  holds  a  subordinate 
position,  aud  is  preaching  to  a  small  parish.  He 
will  die  a  victim  of  black-mailing. 

BLACK-MAILERS   AT   A   WEDDING. 

A  faahionable  wedding  is  a  harvest  season  for 
black-Qiailers,  especially  if  the  bridegroom  baa 
been  known  as  a  fast  young  man.  No  bank 
keeps  a  better  account  of  the  whereabouts  and 
standing  of  its  depositors,  than  do  black-mailers 
of  tlie  whereabouts,  standing,  and  movements  of 
their  victims.  A  wedding  among  New  York  high 
life  13  talked  about.  Invitations  are  greedily 
seized.  The  elite  are  all  agog.  On  the  morning 
of  the  day  previous  to  the  wedding,  a  lady  comes 
to  the  st&re,  aud  aska  for  the  young  man.  Her 
business  ia  announced  as  important.  She  must 
Bee  the  young  gentleman.  The  "  must"'  is  em- 
{>hatic.  At  sucu  a  time,  when  all  are  so  aensi- 
tive,  and  when,  as  is  often  the  case,  a  fortune 
hangs  on  the  bridal  wreatli,  it  is  important  to 
have  no  scenes.  A  thrill  through  the  frame  of 
the  young  gentleman  called  for,  the  hurrying 
back  of  his  blood  from  the  face  to  the  heart,  tells 
that  hia  time  has  come.  He  goes  to  the  inter- 
view as  the  ox  goes  to  the  slaughter.  Be  the 
claim  real  or  bogus,  hush-money  ia  generally 
paid. 

A  BBIDE  CALLED  ON. 

A  call  is  not  nnfrcquently  made  at  the  home 
of  the  young  lady  to  be  married.  It  is  a  wo- 
man that  calls,  in  a  shabby-genteel  arrar,  to 
excite  sympathy.  The  call  is  made  a  week  or 
ten  days  before  the  wedding.  Every  step  is 
consummately  taken,  and  tells  in  the  right  di- 
rection. The  young  lady  is  called  for  l)y  the 
woman,  who  seems  to  possess  a  wounded  spirit. 
Her  appearance,  the  toue  of  her  voice,  the  ex- 
pression of  her  face,  bespeak  one  who  has  been 
greatly  wronged,  or  who  lias  some  great  Borrow 
at  heart.  The  acting  is  consummate.  Of  course 
the  young  lady  is  not  at  home  to  strangers. 
She  then  asks  if  the  young  man  is  in;  if  it  is 
true  that  he  is  going  to  bo  married ;  if  any  one 
can  tell  her  where  ho  can  bo  found— questions 
intended  to  create  anxious  imiuiry  at  tlie  break- 
fast table:  "Who  can  that  woman  bo  i*  What 
can  she  want  of  Charlie  V  Why  did  she  ask  so 
particularly  about  his  being  iuarriedy"  The 
frightened  maiden  runs  to  her  lover,  and  Bays: 
"Oh,  Charlie,  there  was  a  woman  here  this 
morning  for  you!  She  seemed  so  poor  and  sad! 
Slio  wanted  to  know  where  you  could  bo  found. 
She  wanted  to  know  if  you  "were  to  be  married 
soon.  Whoissho?  What  can  she  want  of  yon?" 
A  nice  preparation  this  for  the  visit  of  the  black- 
mailer on  Charlie  at  the  store. 

A  bolder  step  is  not  nnfroquentlv  taken.  As 
the  bridal  companv  are  enjoying  themselves  in 
an  up-town  first-class  residence,  an  emphatic 
ring  announces  an  impatient  comer.  The  bride- 
groom is  asked  for,  and  the  footman  bade  to 
say  that  a  lady  wants  to  see  him.  The  imperious 
air  of  the  woman  plainly  tolls  the  footman,  "  If 
he  refuses  to  see  me  there'll  bo  trouble."  The 
footman,  well  acnuainlcd  with  high  life  in  New 
York,  knows  well  what  the  visit  of  the  woman 
means.  Ho  has  the  honor  of  the  family  in  hie 
charge.  Ho  whispers  the  request  of  tlio" woman 
to  the  startled  bridegroom.  But  what  can  be 
done?  The  woman  is  notorious,  and  well  known. 
She  understands  her  business,  and  is  unscrupu- 
lous. Threats  and  entreaty  will  be  alike  un- 
availing. Ten  men  could  not  put  her  off  that 
step-stone.  She  would  cling  to  that  iron  railinp; 
witri  the  strength  of  a  maniac.  She  would 
rouse  the  whole  neighborhood  by  her  acreeches, 
accusations,  and  blasphemies.  The  party  would 
break  up  in  exciteniBnt.  The  scandal  would 
run  through  all  Newiork;  the  papers  would  be 


full  of  it;  the  police  might  take  her  away,  but 
she  would  rend  the  air  with  her  tears  aud  strong 
crying.  All  these  considerations  are  taken  into 
account  by  the  black-mailers.  A  private  settle- 
ment is  usually  made,  and  the  unreasonable 
visitor  departs. 

ANOTHER  MODE. 

The  announcement  in  the  papers  of  marriage 
in  high  life,  at  the  residence  of  the  bride's 
father,  docs  more  than  give  information  to  the 
curious.  It  is  a  bugle-call  to  black-mailers. 
A  young  husband,  just  admitted  a  partner  with 
the  father-in-law,  whose  repute  is  without  a 
stain,  wboae  success  in  lile  depends  upon  an 
unblemished  character,  is  overwhelmed  with  the 
threat  that  unless  a  sum  of  money  is  paid  at  a 
giveu  time,  an  infamous  charge  shall  be  made 
against  him.  An  unmanly  fear,  a  cowardly 
dread  of  being  accused  of  a  crime  never  com- 
mitted, a  wish  to  shield  from  sorrow  tlie  young 
being  ho  has  just  led  to  the  altar,  often  lead  a 
young  man  to  yield  to  the  demands  of  black- 
mailers if  they  "will  take  themselves  off.  They 
depart  for  a  time,  only  to  return  to  renew  the  de- 
mand, making  the  one  payment  a  reason  for 
asking  more. 

BLACK-MAILER   FOILED. 

I  know  a  young  man  of  marked  business  abili- 
ty. He  was  superintendent  of  a  Sunday  school 
a'nd  a  young  partner  in  an  important  house.  His 
marriage  gave  him  a  fine  social  position.  About 
three  months  after  his  return  from  bis  wedding 
trip,  a  woman  called  upon  him  at  his  store. 
She  seemed  to  be  quite  well  acquainted  with  him, 
and  told  her  errand  in  a  business-like  style.  She 
wanted  five  hundred  dollars,  and  must  have  it. 
He  could  give  it  to  her.  If  he  did,  all  would  bo 
well.  If  be  did  not,  abe  would  make  trouble  in 
bis  store,  and  trouble  in  his  family.  People 
would  believe  her,  suspicion  would  attach  to  liiui, 
and  he  could  never  shake  it  off.  She  gave  him 
a  limited  time  to  make  up  bis  mind;  placed  her 
card  in  bis  hand,  aud  departed.  The  young  man 
had  sense  and  pluck.  He  went  to  a  detective, 
and  placed  the  matter  in  his  bauds.  The  de- 
tective force  in  an  institution  in  New  York.  Its 
members  are  shrewd,  cool,  talented  and  effi- 
cient. They  are  everywhere,  and  in  all  dis- 
guises. They  represent  all  professions.  They  are 
unknown  to  rogues,  and  are,  therefore,  success- 
ful ia  their  efforts  to  detect  criminals  and  to  re- 
lieve their  victims.  Assuming  the  role  of  a 
friend,  the  detective  called  upon  the  woman.  She 
was  young,  intelligent,  well-dressed,  seemingly 
modest.  She  professed  to  bo  adverse  to  a  dis- 
solute life,  and  charged  that  she  had  stepped 
aside  under  tlie  solemn  promise  of  marriage. 
Slie  gave  timca  aud  places  when  she  met  tlio 
voiing  man,  aud  her  candor  aud  modesty  would 
have  deceived  any  one  but  a  detective.  She  had 
rooms  in  a  repiitablo  house,  and  gave  the  name 
of  her  employer.  With  thia  statoiucut  the  con- 
spiracy was  revoalad.  One  of  the  tunes  men- 
tioned, the  young  man  was  in  Europe  during  the 
whole  year  on  buaiucss  for  the  house.  The  sec- 
ond time  specified,  he  was  absent  from  the  city 
the  whole  month  on  his  wedding  tour,  with  the 
family  of  his  senior  partner.  The  room  where 
the  interview  was  held  was  borrowed  for  the  oc- 
casion of  a  casual  acquaintanco,  who  know  noth- 
ing of  the  disreputable  cliaracler  of  the  woman. 
The  plot  was  blown  iuto  the  air.  The  woman 
confessed  her  conspiracy,  gave  the  names  of  he. 
associates,  aud  was  marched  off  to  the  Tombs. 

HOTEL  BEOISTEBS,   AJfD  BLACK-MAIL. 

Some  of  the  newspapers  print  the  arrivals  at 
the  principal  hotels  daily.  These  arrivab  aru 
used  for  black-mailing  purposes.  Letters  ar.- 
written  to  strangers  in  the  city,  and  placed  in 
their  hotel  box.  These  letters  pretencl  to  bo  on 
business,  or  to  revive  old  acquaintance,  or  the 
writers  profess  to  know  the  family.  A  friend 
of  mine,  a  stranger  in  the  city,  found  in  his  box 
at  the  hotel  a  letter,  of  which  this  ia  a  copy: 

"Sir:  Seeing  your  arrival  in  tUo  paper  to-day, 
and  thinking,  perhaps,  you  were  a  stranger  lu  the 
city,  and  might  want  genial  company,  I  have  ven- 
tured to  send  you  my  card. 

"  Yours,  respectfully, 

•  » ^?) 

Exposures,  warnings,  fines,  imprijonments,  do 
little  towards  breaking  up  black-mailing.  Vic- 
tims from  the  country  are  too  numerous,  the  re- 
ward is  too  dazzling,  the  chances  of  escape  too 
certain,  to  turn  the  adroit  and  bold  rogues  from 
a  trade  that  yields  so  rich  a  revenue.  The  best 
Bocurity  to  the  swindler  is  the  almost  certainty 
that  the  victim,  from  shame,  or  dread  of  having 
his  name  appear  in  print,  and  consequent  ex- 
posure to  bis  friends,  will  pocket  lua  loss  and 
keep  quiet. 


BIVER  THIEVES. 


Ever  since  the  days  of  Saul  and  Howlett,  a 
full  account  of  whose  crimes  and  punishment  will 
be  found  in  the  "  Secrets  of  the  Tombs,"  organ- 
ized bands  of  pii-ates  and  river  thieves  have  in- 
fested both  shores  of  the  East  Biver. 

Elver  thieves  as  a  class  are  more  reckless  ol 
human  life  than  either  burglars  or  higbwavnien. 
They  believe  in  the  doctrine  that  "  dead  men  tel! 
no  tales;"  they  always  go  well  armed,  aud  never 
hesitate  to  sacrifice  "life  rather  than  jeopardize 
their  own  liberty.  They  are  like  wharf  rat«,  as 
much  at  home  in  the  water  as  on  shore,  aud 
when  once  they  have  committed  a  robbery  or 
murder,  if  too  closely  chased,  they  are  prepared 
to  Jump  overboard,  dive  under  a  pier,  and  thus 
escape  arrest  or  even  detection,  as  has  often 
been  done.  Probably  within  a  day  or  two  after- 
ward the  vessel  they  have  robbed  and  the  friends 
of  the  man  they  have  murdered  will  have  gone 
to  sea.  Thus  the  circumstances  will  soon  die 
out  of  the  recollection  of  the  detectives,  who,  not 
stimulated  by  the  hope  of  a  reward,  will,  of 
course,  fail  to  make  any  efforts  to  discover  the 
perpetrators  of  what  the  newspapers  will  style 
"  Another  river  outrage."  The  river  thieves"  of 
New  York  and  Brooklyn  are  divided  into  two 
classes — namely,  those  "who  steal  from  the  docks 
in  the  day  tim"e,  and  those  who  board  and  rob 
vessels  by  night.  In  Brooklyn  the  former  class 
abound.  Though  troublesome,  they  are  not  con- 
sidered dangerous.  New  York  is  the  haven  oi" 
tho  more  desperate  class;  men  born  on  tlie  river 
who  have  graduated  in  crime,  and  who,  after 
serving  several  terms  in  reformitories,  jails  and 
penitentiaries,  come  forth  full-fiedged  pirates, 
ready  to  scuttle  a  ship,  rob  a  cabin,  cut  a  throat, 
or  throw  a  watchman  overboard. 

This  class  belongs  to  the  peculiar  inalitutiona 
of  New  York  City,  while  Brooklyn  dock  thieves, 
less  known,  cruise  from  Hudso"n  Avenue  to  the 
Atlantic  dock,  paying  occasional  visits  to  the 
Wallabout,  back  of  the  Navy  Yard  dock,  and 
sometimes  inside  the  Cob  dock  of  the  Navy  Yard, 
thence  to  that  still  sparsely  settled  region  be- 
tween the  built-up  portion  of  WiUiamsburgh  and 
Brooklyn  proper.  If  closely  pressed  they  leave 
their  boats  and  their  "swag"  and  soon  tlnd 
refuge  in  tho  classic  regions  of  Irishtown. 

Twenty  years  ago  river  pirates  were  more  nu- 
merous if  not  more  daring  than  they  are  to-day. 
Their  exploits  make  a  perfect  romance  of  crime. 
Devoid  of  aenaationabsm,  it  ia  a  chapter  in  tho 
criminal  history  of  Now  York  and  Brooklyn  as 
thrilling  and  interesting  as  it  is  true. 

Many  old  citizens  will  recollect  the  excitement 
caused  by  the  murder  of  a  watchman  on  board 
the  ship  William  Watson,  lying  between  James 
Slip  and  Oliver  Street,  nearly  thirty  years  ago. 
Three  river  thieves  boarded  the  vessel  at  night 
for  the  purpose  of  committing  a  robbery.  They 
were  discovered  by  the  watchman  while  in  the 
act  of  rifling  the  cabin,  and  thiuking  to  escape 
detection  by  murder,  a  shot  was  fired.  The 
watchman  fell  dead,  shot  through  the  nock,  but 
the  pistol  shot  had  been  heard  by  a  vigilant  po- 
liceman, and  the  result  was  the  murderers  were 
arrested. 

They  proved  to  be  Saul,  Howlett,  and  one 
Johnson,  all  well-known  river  thieves.  Johnson 
turned  States  evidence,  and  Saul  and  Howlett 
wore  banged.  Johnson,  it  is  hinted,  was  killed 
by  Bill  Lowrio  and  others  of  tho  Saul  and  How- 
lett gang  for  having  "given  them  away."  At 
any  rate,  Lowrio  and  "  Slobbery  Jim  "  became 
the  leaders  of  the  gang,  with  their  headquarters 
at  Slaughter- House  Point,  a  low  saloon  at  tho 
corner  of  Water  Street  and  James  Slip,  kept  by 
Peter  Williams,  formerly  of  New  Orleans.  After 
seven  murders  had  been  committed  there,  the 
place  was  closed  by  Captain  (now  Inapectorl 
Thome,  of  the  Fourth  Ward  police.  Then  Low- 
rie  and  his  reputed  wife  opened  a  grogshop  in 
Water  Sti-ect,  ucar  Oliver,  next  door  to  "  Bilker's 
Hall."  It  was  called  "  Tho  Iliaing  Statea,"  and 
for  many  years  was  the  headquarters  of  the  river 
thieves."  About  this  time  Charley  Mounell  be- 
came a  recognized  power  among  the  thieves  and 
murderers  in  the  Fourth  Ward.  Ho  opened  a 
place  iu  Dover  Street,  which  he  called  the  "  Hole 
in  the  Wall,"  and  soon  made  his  den  attractive  to 
hia  kindred  spirits.  It  was  there  that  "Slob- 
bery Jim"  stabbed  and  killed  "  Patsy  the  Bar- 
ber;" it  was  there  that  thieves  and  junkmen 
would  meet  to  "put  up  jobs;"  it  was  there  that 
men  were  drugged  and  robbed  and  women 
beaten  under  Mounell's  directions;  it  was  there 
that  young  thieves  became  graduates  in  crime. 

Ill  1858  tho  pirates  were  stronger,  more  numer- 
ous and  better  organized  than  they  had  been 
since  Saul  aud  Howlett  were  hanged.  The  police 
of  the  Fourth  Ward  bad  nightly  encounters  with 
the  river  thieves,  and  Roundsman  B'air  and  Of- 


THIE  OREAT    EMPIRE   CITY. 


47 


E; 


£ccr8  SpraH  and  Oilbert  were  making  themselvefl 
nutonous  by  ehooting  a  round  dozen  of  the  pi- 
rates within  a  yjar.  "Slobbery  Jim"  had  mean- 
wlule  made  his  escape,  and  never  more  was 
heard  of  until  he  turuod  up  as  captain  of  a  com- 
)auy  of  rebels  duriug  the  late  war;  Bill  Lowrie 
jad  been  sent  to  State  Prison  for  fifteen  years; 
Sam  McCarthy  had  given  up  the  river  and  become 
a  burglar,  and  the  rest  of  the  mob  had  moved  up- 
town toward  tlie  Hook,  or  to  the  neighborhood  of 
the  Brooklyn  Navy  Yard.  And  thus  the  old  Saul 
and  Howlclt  gang  dropped  out  of  existence,  and 
to  a  great  I'Xteut  out  of  the  recollection  of  almost 
cviiyliody. 

About  this  time  business  began  to  increase  in 
the  Seventh  Ward.  Junkmen, who,  as  a  class,  are 
not  inquisitive  and  buy  anything  from  anybody 
without  asking  any  questions  about  where  it 
came  from,  began  moving  from  the  Fourth  to  the 
.Soveutli  Ward.  They  seemed  to  do  a  thriving 
business.  This  mob  did  their  work  very  quietly 
for  several  years,  and  were  really  being  lorgot- 
ton  except  by  the  junkmen,  when  Perry  the 
junkman,  shot  and  killed  ex-polico  officer  Thom- 
as Hayes  at  the  Harbeck  Stores,  Furman  Street. 
Perry  the  junkman  was  one  of  the  New  York 
mob,'  and  Hayes  was  employed  as  a  private  de- 
tective at  Harbeck  Stores.  It  was  found  neces- 
sary to  kill  Hayes  in  order  to  commit  a  particu- 
lar robbery,  and  his  life  was  sacrificed.  With  a 
bullet  la  bis  breast,  his  life's  blood  flowing  out  in 
forrente,  poor  Hayes  jumped  on  &  passing  horse- 
car,  and  as  he  fell  into  a  scat,  be  said  to  the  as- 
tonished passengers: 

"  My  name  is  Thomas  Hayes.  1  am  a  private 
watchman  at  Harbeck  Stores.  Ned  Perry  shot 
me,"  and  died. 

The  murderer  escaped  hanging,  and  is  now 
serving  out  a  life  sentence  in  Stale  Prison. 

Four  years  of  comparative  quiet  again  elapsed, 
and  the  scenes  of  these  midnight  murders  and 
robberies  had  again  been  transferred,  this  time 
to  the  neighborhood  of  the  Battery.  Vigilance 
on  the  part  of  the  police  soon  drove  them  away, 
however,  and  the  old  ground  was  visited  again. 
The  old  river  thieves  had  all  been  "  settled,'" 
and  the  young  ones  were  ambitious. 

This  was  the  condition  of  affairs  when,  on  the 
the  night  of  May  29,  1873,  Joseph  Gayles,  one 
Mahoney,  a  first-class  river  thief,  and"  Billy  " 
Woods,  formerly  a  stone-cutter  but  now  a  mur- 
derer and  expert  river  thief,  stole  a  boat  from 
the  foot  of  JacKson  Street,  and  with  muffled  oars 

Eulled  down  stream  to  pier  27,  East  River.  They 
oarded  the  brig  Margaret,  of  New  Orleans,  and 
while  ransacking  the  captain's  trunk  awakened 
the  captain  and  mate.  A  scuffle  ensued,  which 
resultod^in  the  thieves  leaving  the  brig  and  tak- 
ing to  their  boat.  An  alarm  brought  Officers 
Musgravo  and  Kelly  to  the  scene  of  the  attempted 
robbery. 

It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  sky 
was  overcast,  and  not  a  star  was  to  be  seen.  As 
Musgrave  flashed  his  dark  lantern  under  the 
pier,  he  saw  a  boat  starting  out.  Throwing  the 
rays  of  his  lantern  full  upon  it,  three  men  stood 
up,  revolvers  in  hand,  and  the  firing  began. 
^l^Bgrave's  first  shot  gave  Gayles  his  death 
wound. 

The  officers  continued  their  firing  until  they 
had  emptied  their  pistols,  but  the  thieves  es- 
caped in  the  darkness,  and  pulled  over  toward 
the  Long  Island  shore.  Gayles  fainted  from 
loas  of  blood,  and  his  companions,  thinking  he 
was  dead,  threw  him  overboard  to  lighten  the 
boat.  The  water  revived  him,  and  he  begged 
piteously  to  be  taken  in  the  boat  again.  This  was 
3one  after  much  trouble,  but  as  soon  as  he 
touched  the  thwart  he  gasped  and  died.  The 
boat  was  again  stopped  mid  stream  and  the  life- 
less body  of  Gayles,  with  the  tell-tale  bullet  hole 
through  the  breast,  was  thrown  to  the  waters, 
but  lour  days  afterward  it  came  to  the  surface  at 
the  foot  of  Stanton  Street,  within  sight  from  the 
residence  of  the  dead  river  thief.  Secrecy  was 
no  longer  possible,  and  now  the  thieves  them- 
selves admit  that  their  pal  was  killed  by  Of- 
ficer Musgrave,  of  the  Fourth  Precinct  police. 
Gayles's  just  fate  did  notpreventthe  commission 
of  other  robberies. 

Soon  after,  the  brig  ilattano,  Captain  Connmg- 
ton,  was  boarded  off  the  Battery  by  a  gang  of 
masked  and  armed  men.  The  captain  and  his 
wife  were  subjected  to  many  indignities  and  then 
robbed  of  everything  of  value  they  had  on  board 
the  vessel.  For  this  crime  two  well  known  nver 
thieves,  Dougan  and  Carroll,  were  arrested, 
tried,  convicted  and  sentenced  to  twenty  years' 
imprisonment  in  State  Prison.  They  confessed 
they  had  been  river  thieves  all  their  lives,  but 
denied  all  knowledge  of  the  crime  with  which 
they  were  charged.  Despite  their  prayers,  pro- 
testations and  oaths,  thev  were  convicted,  but  it 
has  recently  been  made  known  to  the  authorities 


that  the  robbery  was  committed  by  Brady,  Grif- 
fin and  Conroy.  These  three  men  belonged  to 
the  gang  of  masked  burglars  who  had  been  com- 
mitting such  terrible  depredations  in  the  subur- 
ban villages.  Brady  is  a  man  well  known  to 
sporting  men  who  travel  down  the  Coney  Island 
road;  a  medium-sized  man  with  broad  Hhouldcrs 
and  powerful  build. 

In  quick  succession  several  othci  daring  rob- 
beries were  perpetrated  duriug  the  month  of  De- 
cember, 1873.  First  came  the  robbery  of  the  bark 
Zouma,  at  Pier  22,  East  Uiver.  Louis  Englemau, 
a  Fourth  Ward  river  thief,  who  lived  at  57  Hose 
Street,  New  York,  was  the  thief.  He  was  cap- 
tured by  Sergeant  Blair,  of  the  Second  Precinct, 
after  a  chase  of  three  hours,  during  which  ho 
jumped  overboard,  and  while  hanging  on  to  the 
rudder  of  a  three-masted  schooner,  at  pier  27, 
was  thrown  a  rope  by  a  policeman. 

lie  dove  under  vessels  and  docks,  and  for  a 
long  time  defied  half  a  dozen  officers  in  boats, 
but  he  was  at  length  captured,  and  is  now  doing 
the  State  some  service.  The  following  night  an 
attempt  was  made  to  steal  some  bales  of  cotton- 
duck  from  Pier  8,  North  River.  The  watchman 
gave  the  alarm,  which  brought  Officer  Mulrooney 
and  Captain  Lowrie  t-o  the  scene.  The  thieves', 
as  thev  pulled  away  in  their  boat,  opened  fire 
upon  the  officers,  which  the  latter  returned,  ap- 
parently with  good  effect,  as  one  man  was  heard 
to  exclaim:  "  Oh,  I'm  shot,"  but  no  trace  of  a 
dead  or  wounded  river  thief  has  since  been 
found. 

The  "  Hook  Gang  "  of  river  thieves,  which  was 
at  that  time  formidable,  was  composed  of  the 
remnant  of  the  successors  of  Saul  and  Howlett. 
Its  chief  spirits  were  Merricks,  a  desperate  and 
bold  thief,  capable  of  committing  any  crime, 
James  Coffee,  who  has  served  one  term"  in  State 
Prison,  and  has  hia  likeness  in  the  rogues'  al- 
bum, Le  Strange  and  Lewis,  highwaymen,  bur- 
glars, river  thieves,  or  pick-pockets,  as  occasion 
might  require;  Preslin,  a  daring  thief,  Riley,  who 
was  soon  after  sent  to  Sing  Sing,  and  his  three 
pals,  McCracken,  Gallagher  and  Bonner.  This 
choice  crowd  held  forth  at  the  foot  of  Stanton 
Street,  across  the  ferry,  and  operated  anywhere 
between  Fourteenth  Street  and  the  Battery.  The 
week  before  Christmas,  1873,  the  canal  boat 
Thomas  H.  Brick  was  lying  off  the  foot  of  Four- 
teenth Street.  Shortly  after  midnight,  on  the 
morning  of  December  20,  she  was  boarded  by 
Sam  McCracken,  John  (^allagher  and  Tommy 
Bonner.  With  pistols  in  their  hands  they  con- 
fronted the  captain,  who  succeeded  in  giving  the 
alarm  before  he  was  bound  and  gagged.  The 
battle  was  short  and  decisive.  Officer  Booz  and 
Captain  M.  J.  Murphy  arrested  them,  and  they 
were  sent  up  three  and  a  half  years  each,  to 
Auburn  State  Prison.  Thev  were  all  very  des- 
perate characters,  though  feonner  was  only  21 
years  of  age,  Gallagher  19  and  McCracken  20 
years  of  age. 

Beyond  a  few  petty  dock  thieves  who  infest  the 
First  Ward,  New  York,  and  are  kept  in  subjec- 
tion, and  the  scoundrels  who  prowl  along  the 
Brooklyn  piers,  and  whose  histories  are  not  dif- 
ferent from  those  of  other  sneak  thiercs,  there  is 
now  no  regular  organized  mob  worthy  of  extend- 
ed notice.  But  there  are  numerous  fierce,  des- 
perate and  successful  buccaneers  who  ply  the 
nver  in  pursuit  of  prey. 

The  prey  of  the  river  pirate  is  anything  that 
offers.  He  has  no  choice  as  long  as  it  will  bring 
money  in,  and  from  a  sack  of  coffee  to  an  anchor 
and  cable  all  is  fish  that  comes  into  his  net.  The 
romance  of  his  dark  career  is  less  in  the  career 
itself  than  in  the  circumstances  under  which  it  is 
followed. 

It  is  night,  the  city's  myriad  lights  are  mirrored 
in  the  waters  and  the  ferry  boats  flash  from  shore 
to  shore,  their  paddle  beats  sounding  in  the 
gloom  like  the  pinions  of  some  strange  birds, 
when  the  boat  of  the  river  thief  shoots  out  from 
its  concealment  like  au  evil  spirit  of  the  night. 
Shrouded  by  the  murkiness  of  the  night  the  boat 
glides  into  mid-stream  and  the  muffled  oars  are 
plied  by  strong  and  skillful  arms.  There  are 
three  men  in  the  boat  and  from  their  unwavering 
course  it  is  evident  that  their  business  has  been 
well  planned.  The  river-thief  never  goes  looking 
after  stray  trifles.  Before  each  foray  he  has  been 
inatructecl  by  the  captain  of  the  gang  of  the  work 
expected  of  him.  His  only  is  it  to  find  the  means, 
and  his  long  experience  renders  this  an  easy 
matter. 

The  occupants  of  the  boat  in  mid-stream  have 
made  a  survey,  and  see  no  hindrances;  they  pull 
rapidly  in  shore  and  listen  for  the  sound  of  the 
spy  on  the  dock  to  tell  them  whether  or  not  the 
police  boat  is  in  waiting  for  them.  The  signal  is 
favorable,  and  under  the  shadows  of  the  docks 
and  ferry -houses,  the  light  skiff  ia  impelled  swift- 
ly and  silently  to  its  destination.    A  brig  lies  in 


the  river,  and  alongside  her  the  boat  pulls  and 
is  made  fast  to  her  chains.  Stealthily  one  of  the 
crew  of  the  boat  climbs  to  the  deck  of  the  vessel, 
and  carefully  appropnate.H  whatever  loone  pieces 
of  chain  ancf  rope  lie  about,  but  while  doing  this 
he  does  not  neglect  to  note  the  iireHeiice  or  ab- 
sence, drowsiness  or  watchlulucHS  of  t)ie  guard, 
for  it  may  be  that  the  booty  is  rich,  and  lies  in 
the  cabin.  If  this  be  the  case,  four  men  have 
been  sent,  and  they  are  desperate,  resolute 
pugilists,  who,  if  death  bo  necessary  to  the  suc- 
cess of  tlio  venture,  will  not  licsitate  to  take  life 
or  sacrifice  their  own. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  as  the  rivor-thiovcB 
are  seeking  a  haven  of  safety  after  a  robbery  and 
as  their  bo&t  glides  quietly  along  in  the  dark",  that 
another  is  seen,  and  shooting  out  from  behind 
some  wharf  or  from  the  shade  of  some  vessel  she 
makim  rapidly  for  the  thieves.  Tlicy  see  their 
enemy  and  know  it  for  the  police  boat.  Now 
comes  the  race.  The  pohce  boat  has  more  men, 
and  gaining  rapidW  on  her  prey  the  latter  is 
called  on  to  surrentler.  The  answer  is  a  laugh 
of  derision  as  the  men  lay  aside  their  oars  and 
drawing  weapons  prepare  to  defend  themselves 
to  the  last.  One  shot  fired  at  the  police  boat 
brings  a  dozen  in  return  and  the  fusilade  is  fast 
and  furious  for  a  minute.  A  cry,  "  My  God, 
I'm  shot,"  comes  from  the  boat  of  the  thieves 
and  when  the  police  pull  alongside  tliey  find  all 
the  men  wounded  and  faint  but  one,  an^  he  has 
passed  over  the  river  to  the  Thither  Shore. 

The  tales  which  these  men,  criminal  as  they 
are,  could  tell  of  life  at  the  water  side  would  Ibrni 
a  page  which  might  be  read  for  the  edification  of 
those  who  seek  to  know  the  dark  side  of  life. 
For,  as  the  river-thief,  like  Rogue  Riderhood, 
pulls  up  and  down  in  searcji  of  plunder,  he  not 
infrequently  hears  the  splash  m  the  water  that 
tells  liim  of  "Another  Unfortunate"  who  has 
ended  a  world  of  trouble  and  sorrow  in  that  one 
leap  from  life  to  death.  He  has  seen  them  when 
they  first  stood  gazing  moodily  into  the  water 
below  and  knew  from  his  own  experience  of  life 
that  they,  contemplating  in  bitter  agony  the  past 
of  sorrow  and  wondering  how  in  the  future  they 
may  escape  the  judgment  they  have  been  taught 
to  believe  is  in  store  for  them;  he  has  seen  the 
last  leap  that  has  told  of  the  first  embrace  of 
death;  he  has  noted  the  rising  bubbles  that  tell 
of  the  spirit  departed,  and  the  prow  of  his  boat 
has  pushed  aside  from  its  course  the  floating 
body.  And  yet  none  of  these  things  have  moved 
him  to  reflection  or  to  such  reflection  as  brings 
repentance  and  reformation.  And  when  his  trip 
18  performed  and  he  has  "ome  safely  away  witn 
hia  plunder,  he  resorts  to  the  vilpst  drinking  sa- 
loons of  the  river-side,  and  there  in  the  company 
of  his  "pals"  he  forgets  the  dangers  he  has 
passed  and  sinks  deeper  and  deeper  into  crime 
in  the  exchange  of  ideas  and  experiences  to  be 
put  into  practice  at  the  first  opportunity. 

Such  is  the  river-thief  of  New  Y'ork,  in  life  and 
death.  Doesanyof  ray  readers  envy  him? — From 
"  Crooked  Life  in  Neu)  York,"  pablisliedby  Rich- 
ard K.  Fox. 


QUEER   METHODS  OF   SAINING  A  LIVELI- 
HOOD. 


Of  the  many  peculiar  methods  certain  in- 
genious residents  of  New  York  adopt  to  gain  a 
livelihood,  one  of  the  most  original  is  that  of  the 
broker  or  speculator  in  small  business  plants. 
One  of  these  individuals  thus  described  his 
methods  to  a  reporter  of  one  of  our  daily  news- 
papers: 

In  a  city  like  New  York  there  are  always  a  great 
many  business  changes.  In  the  sraaUer  utores 
along  the  avenues  and  in  most  of  the  cross  busi- 
ness streets  above  CAual,  you  can  find  parties 
every  day  who  are  ready  to  sell  out  if  they  can 
ouly  close  up  without  any  very  heavy  loss.  There 
is  an  equal,  or  perhaps  a  greater  number  of  men 
who  are  ready  to  jump  into  any  little  business 
which  seems  to  promise  them  a  modest  com- 
petence. All  I  do  18  to  step  in  and  relieve  the 
sellers  at  the  lowest  figures  I  can  persuade  him  to 
take,  and  accommodate  the  buyer  at  the  highest 
price  1  can  get  him  to  give.  The  difference  is 
my  profit. 

"  For  instance,  I  bought  out  this  little  cigar 
store  two  weeks  ago.  I  had  my  eye  on  it  for  some 
time,  and  noticed  tne  premonitory  symptoms  of 
earlv  dissolution.  I  inquired  in 'the  neighbor- 
hood when  the  man's  rent  would  be  due.  Two 
days  before  that  time  I  made  my  appearance, 
and  got  into  easy  conversation  with  him,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  proposed  selling  out  to  me. 
Then  I  obtained  the  very  lowest  price  for  fix- 
tures, stock  and  the  business  separately.  The 
upshot  of  it  was  that  I  would  pay  nothing  for  the 
business,  because  there  was  none,  and  cut  down 


48 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


the  prices  of  stock  very  materially.  I  appeared 
to  him  to  be  about  to  make  the  offer, when  I  men- 
tioned the  rent.  Then  I  told  him  I  could  not  as- 
sume 80  heavy  an  expense  at  the  start,  and  went 
away.  The  next  day,  being  the  day  before  the 
rent  was  due,  I  stopped  in  agam  for  a  cigar  and 
the  man  resumed  the  previous  subject.  We  set- 
tled at  last,  I  agreeing  to  pay  half  the  rent.  I  de- 
manded immediate  possession,  and  obtained  it. 
(  gave  myself  twenty-four  hours  to  put  on  the 
kncy  touches.  Scrubbers  started  in  first,  and 
jere  instantly  followed  by  cheap  paperhaugers 
and  white  was  hers.  Then"  the  whole  stock  was 
brushed  up,  the  fresh  sides  of  the  boxes  were 
turned  outward,  unsightly  objects  were  flung 
into  the  yard  or  under  the  counter,  and  a  cheap 
but  extremely  lively  oilcloth  was  put  down  where 
it  would  make  the  best  show.  Then  came  the 
stocking  up.  This  is  an  art  by  itself,  and  a  great 
deal  of  your  success  in  the  business  depends 
upon  it.  You  see,  vou  must  so  arrange  that  m 
selling  out  you  will  not  only  get  paid  for  your 
'  business,'  which  has  not  cost  vou  anything,  but 
make  a  profit  on  your  stock,  which  has  cost  next 
door  to  It.  Of  course,  I  choose  the  cheapest  but 
showiest  articles  for  a  business  like  this,  as  the 
man  I  propose  to  sell  out  to  must  be  a  green  one. 
A  good  many  of  that  sort  buy  small  cigar  stores, 
for  there  is  a  current  opinion,  largely  held 
among  certain  buyers  of  city  plants,  though  it  is 
an  erroneous  one,  that  anybody  cau  run  a  cigar 
store.  Of  course,  I  make  the  window  bloom,  and 
almost  always  put  in  a  new  and  brilliant  chan- 
delier of  many  burners.  I  always  insist  that  the 
incomer  shall  settle  the  gas  bill.  Then  I  hire  an 
assistant  and  advertise  for  a  purchaser.  I  can 
eoou  tell  if  1  have  found  the  right  kind  of  a  chap. 
1  talk  to  him  very  quietly  and  say  little.  Selling 
a  business  is  a  delicate  matter.  Almost  the 
whole  point  is  in  striking  the  man's  fancy.  Yon 
have  fixed  up  your  place  with  special  reference 
to  this  idea,  and  you  can  soon  tell  if  he  likes  the 
style.  If  not  you  can  say  nothing  useful.  In 
either  case  you  can  tell  him  you  are  a  little  busy 
and  get  him  to  come  in  at  night — things  always 
look  more  lively  then — and  close  the  transaction 
as  soon  as  vou  can." 


DIVORCES  IN  NEW  YORK. 


ilvEBYyear,  with  the  reopening  of  the  courts, 
there  are  almost  innumerable  applications  for 
divorce.  Many  of  the  applicants  are  young,  and 
have  been  married  only  a  few  years.  I  dare  say 
a  pretty  largo  number  of  them  will  try  matri- 
mony again  when  they  get  rid  of  present  con- 
tractu. It  18  to  open  the  way  lor  other  ventures 
in  that  line  that  many  divorce  suits  are  brought. 
Husband  or  wife  takes  a  fancy  to  some  other  per- 
son for  a  partner,  but  present  obligations  stand 
in  the  way.  They  cau  be  got  out  of  the  way  only 
by  divorce^  so  a  lawyer  is  hunted  up,  a  petition 
filed,  testimony  produced,  and,  presto!  the 
whole  business  is  done.  But  notalwavs  honest- 
ly done — oh,  un,  not  by  a  very  long  shot.  In  a 
great  many  cases  the  buaiuess  is  a  fraud  from 
beginning  to  end.  Judge  Donohue,  ol  the  Su- 
premo Court,  has  signed  quite  a  lot  of  divorce 
decrees  in  his  ume.  He  once  said:  "  There  is  un- 
doubtedly traud  in  many  divorce  cases,  and 
what  I  mean  by  that  is  that  the  business  of  ob- 
taiuiug  divorces  by  questionable  means  has  not 
been  suppressed,  notwithstanding  the  extra  vigi- 
lance to  detect  it  now  exorcised  by  the  courts. 
I  myself  have  either  suspected  or  boon  convinced 
in  a  number  of  cases  that  fraud  had  been  prac- 
ticed, yet  was  unable  to  obtam  conclusive  evi- 
deuce  to  that  effect,  and  the  conspirators  thus 
escaped  the  punishment  the  law  proscribes  and 
|which  they  merited."  Who  are  the  perpetrators 
of  the  fraud  ?  Scalawag  lawyers,  of  course. 
There's 

A  OJLSa   OF   RASCAXJ-Y   LAWYERS 

ia  New  York  who  make  a  business  of  getting  di- 
vorces by  crooked  moans,  and  are  always  ready 
to  take  up  any  case  that  comes  along.  They 
have  no  professional  standing,  and  respectable 
lawyers  uo  not  recognize  them  at  all,  but  they 
care  nothing  for  that.  Bread  and  butter  is  what 
they  are  after,  and  thev'll  do  auythiug  to  get  it. 
The  Tombs  shyster  of'^  the  old  "times  was  re- 
garded on  all  sides  as  the  lowest  type  of  the  pro- 
tessiou.  Wo  have  Tombs  shysters  still,  but  they 
are  no  longer  the  lowest.  The  lawyers  who 
make  a  specialty  of  divorces  are  rightfully 
entitled  to  that  rank,  and  get  it.  Their  plan  of 
operations  is  pretty  well  known.  All  tuat  the 
client  has  to  do  is  to  put  the  case  in  their  hands 
and  pay  a  fee  in  advance.  Most  of  the  divorce 
suits  go  to  referees  instead  of  being  tried  in 
court.  If  the  hearing  is  not  actually  secret,  it  is, 
in  most  cases,  the  next  thing  to  it.    There  are 


no  reporters  and  there  is  no  audience.  The  di- 
vorce laNvyer  presents  his  case  and  brings  on 
his  witnesses.  Who  are  the  witnesses  ?  Why, 
in  many  instances,  neither  party  to  the  suit  ever 
heard  of  them  before.  They  are  scamps  whom 
the  divorce  lawyer  keeps  m  tow  for  just  such 
occasions.  Their  testimony  is  a  lie  from  first 
to  last.  The  lawyer  tells  them  beforehand  what 
they  must  swear  to,  and  often  coaches  them  to 
see  that  they  have  the  story  straight.  They 
swear  to  personal  knowledge  of  things  which 
never  occurred,  and  to  acquaintance  with  per- 
sons they  never  saw.  If  the  other  side  does  not 
appear,  as  often  happens,  because  proper  notice 
has  not  been  given,  the  sworn  lies  of  the  scamus 
go  unquestioned.  The  referee  may  possibly 
have  suspicions,  but  he  must  go  by  the  "  evi- 
dence," and  there  it  is.  No  one  has  appeared  to 
refute  it.  He  reports  to  the  court  that  the 
charges  are  proven;  the  court  assumes  that  it  is 
all  right,  and  a  decree  of  divorce  is  issued.  So 
the  way  is  clear,  and  the  person  getting  the  de- 
cree may  go  right  oflf  and  marry  again.  Per- 
haps tho  other  party  to  the  new  marriage  is 
waiting  around  tho  corner.  It  is  all  a  round- 
the-corner  business,  and  an  exceedingly  bad 
business  everv  wav.  And  much  more  of  it  is 
carried  on  in  New  York  than  the  public  supposes. 
As  the  trials  are  not  reported,  unless  thev  con- 
tain something  sensational,  the  public  knows 
nothing  about  them.  It  would  be  a  good  thing 
for  morals  if  the  divorce  lawyers  could  be  sup- 
pressed.   But  they  probably  "can  not. 


FASHIONABLE  WEDDINGS,  AND  WEAT 
THEY  COST. 

"  A  New  Yobk  fashionable  wedding  is  a  very 
expensive  thing,"  said  a  prominent  New  York 
caterer  of  Fifteenth  Street  to  a  journalier. 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  reporter,  "the  bride's 
clothes  cost  a  great  deal,  and  perhaps  the  groom 
has  to  pay  the  minister  a  large  sum,  but  do  the 
other  expenses  amount  to  much  ?  " 

"Tho bride's  outfit  is  something  I  don't  know 
anything  about.  If  a  wedding  is  coming  oflf,  the 
bride's  father  or  mother  or  uncle  or  somebody 
comes  to  me  and  says:  'lam  going  to  have  a 
wedding  and  I  want  you  to  furnish  for  it.'  '  All 
right,'  I  say,  'how  many  gnests?'  '  Well,  about 
three  hundred  to  the  Mcephon.'  Then  I  set  to 
work  to  calculate  what  kind  of  a  table  they  want." 

"  How  much  per  guest,"  interrupted  the  re- 
porter, "  does  it  take  for  a  very  nice  wedding 
collation?  " 

"  Well,  I  can  set  a  very  pretty  table  for  tl-.W 
per  head.  That  will  include  ices,  bouillion, 
cake,  wine,  jellies,  bonbons,  several  kinds  of 
salads,  sandwiches,  flowers,  china,  waiters  and 
all." 

"  What  else  beside  the  above  menu  would  peo- 
ple want?  " 

"Ob!  many  things.  Champagne,  oysters,  a 
spiced  fish  which  costs  $20  -more,  if  hois  a  nice 
fellow;  cold  meats,  etc.  These  are  all  expensive 
things,  and-  of  course  we  have  to  charge  for 
them." 

"  Do  yon  include  the  wedding  cake  in  the  $1.50 
estimate  ?  " 

"  Not  generally.  You  see  it  costs  us  about 
twenty  cents  for  each  box  full.  The  box  costs  a 
few  cents,  the  white  satin  ribbon  that  ties  it  about 
eight  cent*,  and  the  cake  about  ten  cents.  Each 
box  costs  the  person  who  orders  it  about  thirty- 
five  cents,  which  just  multiplied  by  300  guests 
comes'to  $105.  You  can  always  tell  a  swell  wed- 
ding by  the  cake  that's  served"  to  you." 

"  How  do  you  go  about  serving  a  wedding  col- 
lation ?  " 

"  I  send  my  head  man  to  inspect  the  dining- 
room  and  kitchen.  Then  the  dishes  and  silver 
are  sent,  the  kitchen  being  given  entirely  into  the 
hands  of  my  men.  They  set  the  table,  mix  the 
salads,  turn  out  tho  ices,  etc.,  and  just  before 
the  guests  come  I  go  over  and  see  if  everything 
is  going  smoothly.  Some  caterers  take  every- 
thing left  over  away  with  them.  It  is  a  bad  thing 
to  do.  The  familylike  the  remains  of  the  feast 
so  much,  and  it  is"  really  of  no  use  to  the  caterer, 
except  for  the  waiters.'       , 

As  the  reporter  left  the  caterer's  he  encoun- 
tered Johnson.  Johnson  is  a  young  and  rather 
good-looking  man.  He  takes  charge  of  the  car- 
riages and  the  admittance  of  guests  at  every 
fashionable  affair.  He  is  to  be  seen  standing 
under  the  awning  of  the  mansion  at  which  the 
ball  or  wedding  is  occurring,  and  calls  the  num- 
ber of  the  carriage,  helps  the  ladies  out,  and 
keeps  rogfues  away,  and  knows  everybody. 

"  Why,"  said  a  young  lady  to  a  journalier, 
"  there  is  never  the"  least  danger  of  any  ono  but 
those  we  desire  getting  into  a  house  as  long  as 


Johnson  is  around.  You  can  trust  him  entirely; 
and  everyone  is  sure  to  get  their  own  carriage, 
too.  He  is  worth  his  $100  or  $200  a  night,  and 
beside  he  often  has  men  to  assist)  him." 

"Flowers,"  said  the  florist  to  the  reporter, 
"  cost  money.  But  there  are  several  ways  of 
decorating  a  house.  I  can  make  pretty  decora- 
tions for  $75  or  $100,  and  I  can  make  decorations 
for  $500.  From  $100  to  $200  is  the  general  lay- 
out, however.  That  will  include  the  church  also. 
I'ou  see  we  place  the  palms,  ferns  and  growing 
plants  about  the  chancel,  but  we  take  them  aU 
back  again.  But  a  wedding  bell,  a  horn  of 
plenty  and  baskets  of  flowers  cost  the  money." 

"  TV^hat  are  the  other  expenses  of  weddings 
besides  the  flowers  and  supper  ?  "  he  was  asked. 

"  There  are  the  carriages  at  $2  to  $5  apiece. 
The  bride's  family  order  about  four  besides  their 
own;  and  there  are  the  awnings  at  the  house  and 
church,  at  $15  apiece,  and  about  $25  to  the  sex- 
ton and  $10  for  tlie  use  of  the  church,  and  then 
there  are  the  invitations — abigbillin  themsclvi-s. 
People  send  cards  to  hundreds  they  do  not  in- 
vite. Take  for  instance  Mrs.  Yandcrbilt's  li;ill. 
She  invited  1,200  people.  For  invitations,  di- 
recting and  delivery,  it  cost  her  over  $600.  Now, 
let  us  figure  up.  For  the  breakfast— $1.50  a  head 
for  300  people,  $450;  flowers,  $200;  wedding 
cake,  $105;  awnings,  $30;  Johnson,  $100;  car- 
riages, $10;  clothes,  $300;  in  all,  $1,195.  I  think 
I'll  just  get  married  and  go  vrithout  the  wed- 
ding."   

BLIND  NEWSDEALERS. 


"  There  are  about  thirtv  of  us  in  the  city." 
said  a  Third  Avenue  newsdealer,  who  is  blind. 
He  meant  blmd  men  who  sell  newspapers. 

"  Most  of  us  own  our  own  stands,  and  arc  do- 
in^  good  business,  too.  I  sell  all  kinds  of  peri- 
odicals on  my  stand,  from  fashion  monthlies  to 
railroad  guides.  Of  course  my  principal  trade 
is  in  the  daily  papers.  I  sell  upward  of  200 
i'uns,  for  instance,  every  day. 

"  No,  tho  public  is  not  always  ready  to  patron' 
ize  a  man  because  bo  is  blind.  At  least,  that  is 
my  experience.  I  have  had  customers  leave  mo 
because  they  said  I  did  not  wait  on  them  fast 
enough.  But  that,  of  course,  was  not  true.  I'm 
as  quick  as  any  of  'em  j'ct,  even  if  my  seeing  is  a 
little  out  of  gear.  I  have  some  very  queer  cus- 
tomers. Some  of  those  who  deal  with  me  con- 
tinually never  speak  a  word.  They  pick  up  their 
papers,  deposit  tho  money  on  the  stand,  and 
walk  away  m  silence. 

"  The  other  dav  a  gentleman  complaimed  that 
I  had  not  noticed  him  once  during  tlie  year  and 
a  half  he  had  bought  papers  of  me.  He  threat- 
ened to  quit.  I  had  never  heard  him  speak  be- 
fore, and  did  not  know  his  voice.  You  ougjit  t'> 
have  heard  him  apologize  when  I  told  him  I  was 
blind. 

"  A  good  many  of  my  customers  are  not  aware 
of  my  ulindnessand  ask  all  sorts  of  ridiculous 
questions  about  pictures  in  the  illustrated  pa- 
pers. A  man  once  asked  me  to  direct  him  in  a 
choice  between  two  comic  papers.  I  did  so.  He 
took  the  one  I  selected,  and  seemed  well  satis- 
fied. In  fact,  ho  complimented  my  taste,  and 
said  he  thought  it  agreed  exactly  with  his  owu. 
Not  long  ago  one  of  my  customers  who  possesses 
a  ponderous  voice — he  is  a  politician— asked  me 
if  I  had  read  what  appeared  about  him  in  ono 
of  the  morning  papers.  I  replied  that  I  had  not, 
but  that  I  would  gladly  listen  if  ho  would  have 
the  Irindness  to  read  "it  tome.  He  became  in- 
dignant. I  learned  afterward  that  the  article 
referred  to  was  of  a  disparaging  nature,  an  1  I 
had  difficulty  in  convincing  him  of  my  defective 
vision.     But " 

"  Sun  ?"  said  a  voung  man  with  "a  light  mus- 
tache, as  he  helped  himself  to  a  paper  and  gave 
the  newsman  a  silver  coin. 

"  You've  made  a  mistake,"  said  the  young  man, 
on  counting  his  change. 

"  I  never  make  a  mistake,"  answered  the  blind 
man. 

"  How  much  IS  the  Sun  ?  " 

"  Two  cents." 

"  But  I  gave  yon  a  quarter,  and  you've  re- 
turned only  twenty-one  cents." 

"  You  gave  me  a  Canadian  coin,  which  is  worth 
just  twenty-three  cents." 

The  young  man  bowed  and  said  he  had  been 
enlightened  against  his  will. 

"  How  did  you  know  that  was  a  Canadian 
coin  'I  "  asked  the  reporter  of  the  blind  man. 

"  I  felt  it.'' 

"  Can  you  tell  that  way  ?  " 

"  Alwa'ye.  Give  me  any  coin  you  like,  native 
or  foreign,  and  I'll  tell  its  value.  And  as  for 
American  notes  and  greenbacks,  why,  I  can  tell 
"em  around  tho  corner." — yeie  York  Sun. 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


49 


.  EEPSESENTATIVE  MEN  OF  NEW  YOSE. 


JAI  OODU>. 

In  most  of  tho  countries  of  Europe,  and  es- 

Eecially  in  England,  great  wealth,  when  unin- 
erited,  is,  an  a  general  thing,  realized  through 
the  slow  and  patient  channels  of  some  trade  or 
calling.  This,  doubtless,  is  owing  to  the  fact 
that  the  natural  resources  of  these  countries  are 
mainly  developed  to  their  utmost  capacity,  and 
th:it,  so  narrow  are  their  boundaries,  mdividu- 
ally,  as  well  as  their  ideas  of  governniont,  the 
spirit  of  enterprise  can  find  no  resting-place,  for 
the  sole  ol  its  foot  among  the  impoverished 
masses  of  their  dense  populations. 

When,  however,  wo  come  to  contrast  this  un- 
desirable state  of  things  vrith  the  condition  of 
affairs  within  tho  boundaries  of  our  own  vast 
3omiuouwealth,  we  are  at  once  struck  with  tlie 
magnitude  of  their  dissimilarity,  and  with  bosoms 
elate  with  joy  and  pride,  but  with  no  mean  feel- 
lug  of  triumph,  turn  from  the  sunset  of  older  na- 
tions to  tho  glorious  dawn  of  our  own  rising 
greatness,  which  even  now  exceeds  in  luster 
some  of  the  boasted  noontides  of  the  past. 

Here  a  newly  created  world, 
so  to  speak,  possessed  of  wealth 
far  exceeding  that  of  "  Ormus, 
and  of  lud,"  and  teeming  with 
all  the  resources  necessary  tt  our 
greatness  and  happiness,  lies 
spread  out  before  us  in  bound- 
less expanses,  presenting  to 
every  species  of  enterprise  fields 
for  operation  so  filled  with  prom- 
ise, and  of  such  gigantic  magni- 
tude, that  those  of  the  Old  World 
^re  dwarfed  into  insignificance 
before  them.  Cnder  such  cir- 
cumstances it  IS  not  a  matter  of 
surprise  that  our  vast  resources 
are  becoming  rapidly  developed, 
that  cities  and  civilizations  are 
now  being  scattered  through  re- 
gions not  long  since  sacred  to 
the  foot  of  the  rod  man,  and  that 
constantly  in  our  midst  some 
adventurous  and  far-seeing  spir- 
it leaps  from  out  the  masses,  and 
at  a  single  bound,  as  it  were, 
attains  to  colossal  wealth  and 
iiuportance. 

There  is  no  stronger  case  in 
point  touching  this  latter  rela- 
:ion  than  that  presented  by  the 
gentleman  whose  name  appears 
it  the  head  of  this  article,  and 
who  has  for  some  time  past  com- 
manded so  large  a  share  of  pub- 
lic attention  with  regard  to  the 
boldness  and  magnitude  of  his 
operations  in  some  of  the  leading 
Interests  of  our  economy.  Al- 
though not  free  from  tile  sus- 
picions which  naturally  attach 
to  men  who,  from  comparative 
penury,  become,  as  if  through 
the  wave  of  a  magician's  wand, 
the  possessors  of  millions,  yet 
there  are  those  who  have  fiiith 
in  him  as  a  sharp  and  successful 
operator,  who  has  given  more 
offence  through  bis  superior 
business  tact  and  danng  than 
through  any  absolute  dishonesty 
on  his  part. 

Jay  Qould  was  born  at  Stratton's  Falls,  Dela- 
■war#  County,  New  York,  in  the  year  1836.  His 
father,  John  B.  Gould,  who  died  in  1866,  and 
who  bad  been  married  three  times,  -was  a  well- 
to-do  farmer,  and  small  storekeeper.  Jay  was  a 
son  by  his  first  wife,  who  went  the  way  of  all 
flesh  in  1841,  little  dreaming  that  her  boy  of  live 
years  was  doomed  to  pass  through  a  course  of 
two  step-mothers.  Young  Gould,  however,  early 
betrayed  symptoms  of  genius  and  self-reliance, 
for  he  had  scarcely  got  well  into  his  school-days 
till  he  regarded  himself  already  a  man,  and  in- 
vented a  mouse-trap.  This  latter  has  been  con- 
sidered by  some  as  either  a  bitter  sarcasm  upon 
the  unwieldly  dimensions  of  the  great,  square, 
unsightly,  white  frame  house  in  which  he  was 
born,  or  a  graphic  foreshadowing  of  his  subse- 
quent operations  in  Wall  Street.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  he  passed  his  childhood  like  most  other 
country  lads  of  that  period,  with  this  difference, 
that  he  was  studious,  reticent,  and  had  the  ad- 
Tantage  of  a  fair  education. 

When  sixteen  years  of  age,  he  made  his  first 
moTe  in  life,  and  became  a  clerk  to  a  "  Squire 
Burhan,"  at  Roxbury,  two  miles  from  the  Falls, 
who  kept  a  small  store,  remarkable  for  the  va- 
riety, original  character,  and  infinitesimal  quan- 


tities of  its  stock.  Hero  his  auditory  nerve  bo- 
came  so  susceptible  that  his  employer  thought  it 
altogether  too  sensitive  for  so  small  an  establish- 
ment. Mr.  Burhan  had  managed  to  obtain  in- 
telligence that  a  very  desirable  piece  of  land  was 
for  public  sale,  cheap,  in  Albany,  and  determined 
to  purchase  it.  This  he  cautiously  whispered  to 
some  parties  in  the  presence  of  his  young  em- 
ployee. On  proceeding  to  put  his  design  into 
execution,  however,  he  found  that,  in  the  inter- 
im, his  clerk  had  become  possessed  of  the  prop- 
erty, having  availed  himself  of  the  astuteness  of 
his  hearing. 

The  genius  of  Jay  must  have  been  of  no  ordi- 
nary character,  for' before  he  was  twenty  years 
of  age  ho  appeared  suddenly  a  full-blown  civil 
engineer,  and  made  a  survey  of  Delaware 
Couutv,  a  map  of  which  was  published  in  1856, 
bv  Collins  G.  Keeney,  of  17  and  19  Union  Street. 
Philadeliihia,  with  "  tho  words  "  From  Actual 
Survey  by  Jay  Gould."  As  there  is  no  royal 
road  to  geometry,  we  fear  that  his  biographers 
have  not  done  justice  to  the  studiousnoss  or  at- 
tainments of  their  subject,  for  no  mention  is 
made  of  how  ho  became  possessed  of  this  un- 
usual kiiDwleilijc. 


JATT    GOULD. 

When  Mr.  Gould  bid  farewell  to  the  home  of 

his  youth,  he  went  to  Pennsylvania  with  Colonel 
Zadock  Pratt,  and  started  a  tannery  in  conjunc- 
cion  with  that  gentleman,  at  a  place  named 
Gouldsboro.  Evidently,  from  this  name,  young 
Jay  was  the  leading  spirit  of  the  enterprise — a 
fact  which  was  soon  exemplified  by  the  circum- 
stance of  his  becoming  sole  proprietor  of  the  es- 
tablishment, leaving  the  colonel  to  tan  the  hides 
of  the  enemy  if  he  wished  to  resume  business. 

In  1859,  Mr.  Gouli  began  to  speculate  in  Wall 
Street,  in  railroad  stock;  and,  it  is  said,  as  a 
curb-stone  broker.  At  that  period  his  means 
were  limited,  and  his  quarters  in  New  York  most 
unpretentious.  From  the  very  first,  however,  he 
had  the  reputation  of  being  a  most  successful 
man;  and  this  was  of  itself  an  amount  of  capital 
noteasily!estimatod.  Hj  neither  smoked,  drank, 
nor  gambled,  and  was  always  on  the  qui  vive 
for  business.  During  the  war  he  profited  largely 
by  the  sale  of  gold  and  of  stocks  and  took  ad- 
vantage of  every  defeat  or  success  of  the  Union 
army.  Long  before  the  close  of  the  struggle  he 
was  said  to  be  a  millionaire.  Of  the  truth  of  this 
conjecture  there  seems  ample  evidence,  for  soon 
after  he  went  into  the  Erie  Railroad  that  corpora- 
tion owed  him  four  milliona  of  dollars. 


After  making  a  great  deal  of  money  through 
the  skillful  handling  of  Erie  stock,  his  next  suc- 
cessful venture  was  in  the  purchase  of  25,000 
shares  of  Cleveland  and  Pittsburgh,  when  he  im- 
proved the  road,  doubled  the  market  value  of 
the  stock,  and  leased  the  property,  netting  about 
a  million  and  a  half  profit.  In  1873  he  went  into 
the  Union  Pacific,  buving  a  vast  number  of  shares 
at  20,  for  which  no  has  smce  reahzed  95.  Tho 
same  gigantic  proportions  and  succeBscs  havo 
characterized  all  his  later  ventures  also.  His 
purchase  of  an  enormous  amount  of  Wabash,  at 
less  than  5,  the  consolidation  of  the  road,  the 
rise  in  the  stock,  and  the  buying  of  an  incredible 
amount  of  Kansas  and  Texas,  at  a  figure  which 
has  doubled  up  into  a  profit  sixfold  greater  than 
tho  price  ho  paid,  has  netted  him  many  addi- 
tional millions.  All  through  1876,  and  up  to  the 
close  of  1878,  he  had  been  purchasing  large  lines 
of  the  low  price  stocks  which,  as  if  by  magic, 
began  to  rise  iu  value  the  moment  he  touched 
them;  so  that  now  his  wealth  must  be  very  great 
some  say  upward  of  sixty  millions. 
Mr.  Gould's  share  in  what  is  termed  the  "  Gold 
Conspiracy,"  or  tho  famous  "  Black  Friday," 
and  his  adroit  antagonism  with  the  late  Commo- 
dore Vanderbilt,  when  the  latter 
was  endeavoring  to  cripple  the 
Erie,  are  too  well  known  to  need 
more  than  a  pasHing  notice  here. 
It  is  to  his  present  status  and 
his  power  to  affect  the  public  in- 
terests in  this  country  that  we 
would  briefly  direct  attention. 
As  the  case  stands,  from  the 
enormous  amount  of  telegraph 
and  railroad  stock  he  controls, 
he  can,  at  any  moment,  all  but 
ruin  competing  hues  by  forcing 
low  rates,  or  can  tax  the  public 
beyond  endurance,  by  insisting 
on  high  ones.  This  is  a  position 
fraught  with  great  danger  to  the 
best  interests  ol  our  people;  al- 
though so  far  no  very  alarming 
symptoms  have  manifested 
themselves.  Mr.  Gould  is  the 
moving  spirit  of  a  great  monop- 
oly; but  if  King  Cotton  and  the 
great  Grain-Giant  of  the  West 
put  their  heads  together,  his 
scepter,  if  wielded  oppressively, 
can  readily  be  wrested  from  his 
grasp.  Tnese  two  prime  factors 
in  our  national  prosperity  can 
never  be  embarrassed  to  any 
fatal  extent  by  combinations, 
whose  existence  may  be  said  to 
depend  on  them.  If  the  owners 
of  the  soil  are  true  to  themselves, 
they  are  invincible. 

The  intiuence  of  this  success- 
ful operator  and  financier  ia  so 
great,  and  his  management  of 
the  press  so  adroit  and  far- 
seeing,  that  any  object  he  sets 
before  him  he  is  sure  to  attain. 
He  is  one  of  the  few  men  who 
never  make  a  false  move,  and 
who,  consequently,  never  lose. 
He  is  always  on  the  wmg,  and 
if  in  his  travels  he  happens  to 
come  across  a  railroad,  or  any 
competing  interest  he  wishes  to 
possess  himself  of,  he  at  once 
sets  about  obtaining  it,  either 
through  money  or  diplomacy. 
If  the  owners  refuse  to  sell  or  come  to  any  terms 
he  thinks  proper  to  propose,  he  quietly  intimates 
that  he  will  build  a  line  right  alongside  of  theirs, 
as  he  finds  that  one  through  that  precise  region  is 
necessary  to  tho  success  of  some  other  of  his 
projects.  This  seldom  fails  to  accompUsh.the 
desired  end;  and  hence  the  aid  of  his  open  hand 
or  the  pressure  of  his  hiel  is  felt  throughout 
most,  if  not  all,  the  lines  of  intercommunication 
on  this  continent.  Ho  is  now  opening  up  Mex- 
ico in  rivalry  with  the  people  of  Atchinson,  To- 
peka,  and  Santa  Fe.  When  both  lines  are  com- 
pleted, some  compromise  or  union  must  be  ef- 
fected between  them,  else  one  at  least  is  sure  to 
go  under,  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  predict  which. 
He  contemplates,  it  is  said,  tho  construction  of  a 
rival  and  parallel  road  to  Lake  Shore,  from 
Toledo  to  Buffalo.  Should  he  accomplish  this, 
and  connect  the  line  with  his  Lackawanna  ex- 
tension, he  will  then  have,  practically,  a  trunk 
line  from  the  Mississippi,  inasmuch  as  it  will 
connect  at  Toledo  with  Wabash.  Once  in  pos- 
session of  this  trnni<  hne,  he  can,  through  freight 
and  passenger  ra.e  wars,  menace  the  Kew  York 
Central  svstem,  and  that  of  the  Erie,  as  well  aa 
the  Pennsylvania.  Ohio  and  Baltimore  systems. 
He  controls  the  Pacific  Mail  Company'B  line  to 


50 


THE  GRKAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


San  Francisco,  and  the  Union  Pacific  route  to  the 
same  place.  In  fact,  his  position  and  influence 
seem  so  thoroughly  eataoliahed  in  everything 
pertaining  to  railroad  and  telegraph  undertak- 
ings, that  ordinary  opposition  to  his  schemes  and 
projects  in  either  relation,  would  appear  to  be  of 
little  avail.  As  a  litigant  he  has  few  equals; 
while,  it  is  said,  his  influence  in  the  courts  is 
fjreater  than  should  be  possessed  by  any  gentle- 
man not  absolutely  on  tlie  bench.  In  anv  aspect 
he  is  a  most  extraordinary  man;  even  Lis  per- 
simal  appearance  conspiring  to  distinguish  liin: 
from  the  ordinary  run  of  mortals;  although  here 
nature  has  not  been  over  bounteous  to  him,  if  we 
are  to  judge  by  the  critical  standards  of  some  of 
the  galleries  of  Europe. 

Mr.  Gould  is  a  married  gentleman,  and  resides 
with  his  wife  and  family — the  oldest  of  whom  is 
a  lad  of  about  15  years— at  his  magnificent  resi- 
dence, Irvington  on  the  Hudson.  Whatever  ob- 
jectionable traits  may  be  set  down  to  his  charac- 
ter, he  18,  most  assuredly,  possessed  of  some 
marked  excellence.  He  is"  an  aflfectionate  father 
and  husband,  and,  when  the  cares  of  the  dav  are 
laid  by,  jirefers  the  bosom  of  his  family  and  the 
society  of  his  books  to  any  other  enjoyment  on 
earth.  His  son,  it  is  said,  is  a  youtli  ol  g^eat 
promise,  and  likely  to  evince  in  "due  time  some 
of  his  leading  characteristics.  As  we 
cannot  but  suppose  that  Mr.  Gould 
is  a  man  of  self-communings  and 
deep  retrospection,  we  feel  assured 
that  at  times,  when  seated  in  his  pa- 
latial abode,  surrounded  by  the  fairy 
realm  of  Irvmgton,  that  teems  with 
every  beauty  and  luxury  known  to 
refinement  and  wealth,  he  contrasts 
his  brilliant  and  happy  present  with 
his  mouse-trap  days,  and  remembers, 
with  a  smile,  the  dismay  and  agita- 
tion he  felt  when  his  liiouse-trap — 
liis  first,  and  doubtless  only  invention 
— was  stolen  from  hini  when,  a  poor 
and  unknown  lad,  he  visited  New 
Vork  in  the  hope  of  turning  it  into 
rash.  Certainly  ne  call  scarcely  have 
forgotten  how  bravely  he  ran  down 
and  captured  the  thief,  who  turned 
out  to  be  a  notorious  burglar,  and 
who,  on  perceiving  what  the  carefully 
tied-up  little  bundle,  for  which  he 
was  arrested,  contained,  exclaimed, 
with  supreme  contempt,  when  th<- 
p&rcel  was  opened  by  the  police: 
"  What!  Only  a  mouse-trap  ?  Well, 
I  be !  " 


CHARLES  A.  DANA. 

The  history  of  low-priced  journal- 
ism in  America  begins  only  from  the 
third  of  September,  1833."  On  that 
dav  first  rose  the  Now  York  6'«n  "to 
shine  lor  all."  It  was  a  very  small 
shine— only  the  size  of  a  window- 
pane,  dyspeptic  in  appearance,  and 
withoutmany  persons  to  judge  of  the 
brilliancy  of  its  appearance.  It  did 
not  reaemble  the  sun  of  Anstorlitz. 
It  was  of  nearly  the  size  that  the 
Evening  Post,  now  the  most  venerable 
of  our  dailies,  and  the  one  with  broad- 
est phvlacteries,  was  at  birth,  and  it 
SroDatly  contained  as  much  news, 
[orace  Groolry  was  then  a  journey- 
man printer,  James  Gordon  Bennett 
was  the  laboring  man  on  the  old 
Courier  and  Enquirer,  and  Henry  J.  Raymond  | 
was  going  to  school.  Slow  and  siire  the  dailies 
of  that  time  were,  lull  of  ponderous  disquisitions 
on  the  bank  and  the  tariff,  and  sleepy  in  the  ex- 
treme. There  were  no  correspondehta  abroad, 
and  not  comnioiilv  one  in  Washington;  tele- 
graphs did  not  flasli  intelligence  from  one  place 
to  another  in  loss  than  a  second,  and  railroad 
and  steamboat  expresses  were  unknown.  The 
mails  from  Europe  were  condensed  for  the  col- 
umns of  the  New  York  newspapers  of  that  day, 
and  from  Albany  intelligence  was  given  a  week 
after  the  events  had  happened.  New  York  was 
then  a  little  smaller  than  Baltimore  is  now,  and 
somewhat  larger  than  Pittsburgh  and  its  sub- 
urbs; but  no  such  gazette  was  issued  from  Man- 
hattan Island  as  to-day  graces  the  press  of 
America  in  the  pages  of  the  Commerciaiof  Pitts- 
burgh. Recriminations  and  invectivee  were 
alarmingly  prevalent,  and  the  picture  drawn  by 
Charles  Dickens  in  Martin  Chuzzlewit  was  none 
too  exaggerated  for  the  day.  Happily,  euch 
times  are  now  past. 

It  was  amid  such  scenes  that  the  New  York 
Sun  was  ushered  into  existence.  It  was  not  a 
model  sheet;  no  paper  could  be  that  whose  means 
did  not  allow  more  than   an  editor  and  ftiree  or 


four  compositors,  and  its  tone,  we  are  sorry  to 
say,  was  no  better  than  that  of  the  rest.  Its 
first  publisher  was  Benjamin  H.  Day,  but  the 
originator  of  the  idea  was  named  Sheppard. 
The  man,  however,  to  whom  the  paper  owed 
most  of  its  success  until  a  few  years  back  was 
Moses  Y.  Beach.  Pony  expresses  were  of  his 
founding,  and  carrier  pigeons  were  his  messen- 
gers. Opposed  to  him  were  soon  found  a  multi- 
tude of  cheap-priced  dailies,  out  of  which  only 
two  have  survived.  The  Herald  was  founded 
three  years  after,  and  the  Tribune  eight,  but 
after  a  brief  time  they  raised  their  price  to  two 
cents  a  copy,  at  which  they  remained  till  during 
the  war.  The  weekly  Sun  was  regarded  as  an 
excellent  hebdomadal  for  many  years,  but  the 
influence  of  the  paper  on  the  public  mind  ceased 
about  the  time  of  the  Mexican  war,  although  its 
advertising  patronage  was  excellent  and  its  cir- 
culation was  large.  After  this,  until  the  change 
in  its  proprietorship,  no  one  thought  of  attach- 
ing any  importance  to  its  remarks  on  public 
event8,"or  ot  disputing  anythmg  it  said.  It  was 
not  worth  while. 

In  1867,  some  capitalists  and  newspaper  men 
were  looking  around  New  Y'ork  city  for  a  news- 
paper to  buy.  It  was  essential  that  it  should 
contain  the  iiews  published  by  the  Associated 


CU^ni.ES    A.    DAXA. 

Press.  .Vs  this  body  would  admit  uo  more  part- 
ners, the  choice  was  between  the  Express  end 
the  Sun.  Of  these  the  latter  was  by  far  the  most 
valuable,  liad  the  greatest  clientage,  and  was  a 
morning  paper.  So  it  was  purchased  at  a  very 
high  figure,  and  the  company,  of  which  Mr. 
Charles  A.  Dana  was  the  chief  man,  set  to  work 
to  reorganize  the  paper. 

This  was  no  easy  task.  The  Sun  needed  a 
new  building  and  new  editors;  it  needed  a 
change  in  everything.  The  old  Tammany  Hall 
building,  where  so  many  meetings  had  been  held 
for  Jackson,  Van  Bureii,  Polk,  Cass,  Pierce,  Bu- 
chanan, Douglas,  and  McClellan,  was  purchased 
in  anticipation  of  the  change,  and  carpenters, 
masons,  and  bricklayers  quickly  changed  it  to 
an  irai)osiug  edifice  crowned  with  "a  Mansard  roof. 
The  Sun  was  ready  for  its  new  quarters,  and  in 
them  it  moved  on  t^e  first  of  January,  1868,  with 
a  new  force  of  editors  and  printers  "throughout. 
Mr.  Dana  controlled  the  editorial  columns,  as- 
sisted by  Isaac  W.England,  as  managing  editor. 

Charles  Anderson  Dana  is  a  member  of  that 
New  England  familv  of  which  the  poet  and  the 
author  of  "Two  Years  before  the  Mast"  are 
also  a  part — a  family  which  has  had  probably  as 
many  Harvard  graduates  trom  within  itself  as 


any  other  in  the  East.  Mr.  Dana  was  also  at 
Harvard,  but  did  not  graduate,  as  the  condition 
of  his  eyes  prevented.  He  stood  high  in  his 
class,  however,  and  his  attainments  alter  being 
two  years  in  college  were  probably  more  than 
those  of  most  of  the  graduating  students.  After 
leaving  he  joined  the  Brook  Farm  community,  a 
dream  of  Arcadia.  Brook  Farm  yet  Uves  as  the 
synonyme  of  unselfishness  and  as  the  embodi- 
ment of  an  attempt  to  form  a  society  founded  not 
on  accidents  of  wealth  and  birth,  but  on  the  inher- 
ent goodness  and  truth  of  humanity.  The 
sketches  given  bv  Emerson,  by  Hawthorne,  and 
by  Curtis,  have  all  the  interest'of  an  event  of  the 
present  week,  with  a  poetry  such  as  attaches  to 
Sir  Thomas  Morc's  Utopia  or" Marco  Polo's  travels 
in  the  East.  They  seem  to  be  of  us,  yet  divided 
by  the  absence  of  egotism  and  of  self  interest  from 
all  that  perplexes  and  moves  the  actual  world. 
Of  thisplialanx,  Mr.  Dana  was  one  of  the  young- 
est, and  after  its  breaking  up  he  became  one  of  the 
soonest  restored  to  the  daily  toil  of  life.  Elizur 
Wright,  now  the  great  insurance  actuary  of  Amer- 
ica, was  then  publisher  of  a  paper  in  Boston  called 
the  Chronotype,  and  employed  the  late  horticul- 
turist as  an  assistant  at  five  dollars  a  M'eeU.  In 
February,  1857,  he  came  to  New  York,  and  en- 
gaged as  city  editor  on  the  Tribune,  attt-n  dollars, 
succeeding  Mr.  George  G.  Foster,  one 
of  the  best  local  sketch  writers  ever  in 
America,  and  the  year  after  went  to 
Europe  as  correspondent.  This  was 
at  the  time  of  the  third  French  Revo- 
lution, and  also  at  a  time  of  general 
upheaving  throughout  the  whole  ooii- 
tiueut  of  Europe.  It  required  for  tins 
post  a  raau  of  good  acquaintance  with 
the  politics  ot  Europe,  and  with  the 
principal  languages  spoken  there. 
This  Mr.  Dana  possessed;  French, 
German,  Italian,  and  Spanish  flow 
from  his  tongue  as  fluently  as  £ng 
lish,  and  he  possesses  a  "wide  ac- 
(luaintauco  wiUi  the  literature  which 
they  preserve. 

Ou  his  return  from  Europe,  Dana 
was  made  Mr.  Greeley's  principal  as- 
sistant, at  a  salary  of  twenty  dollars 
a  week,  which  was"  afterwards  gradu- 
ally increased  until  it  reached  tweu- 
ty-"five  hundred  a  year.  It  is  notice- 
able that  this  salary,  which  is  now 
equaled  by  that  recived  by  some  one 
ou  more  "than  a  hundred  American 
newspapers,  was  then  the  highest 
paid  by  the  press.  Men  of  twenty 
years'  experience,  apt  writers  and 
cogent  reasouers  were  tlien  only  paid 
from  twenty  to  thirty  dollars  a  week, 
and  it  was  impossible  to  go  higher. 
During  Mr.  Dana's  labors  on  the  lYi- 
bune  he  found  time  to  compile  a  vol- 
ume of  poetry  from  the  worKs  of  emi- 
nent authorsj  and  in  1858  he  and  Mr. 
George  Ripley  commenced  the  Ameri- 
can Cyclopedia.  This  voluminous 
work  needed  immense  labor,  and  oc- 
cupied a  great  portion  ol  the  time  of 
the  editors  for  several  years,  and  was 
not  concluded  until  after  the  with- 
drawal of  Mr.  Dana  from  the  Tribune, 
which  happened  in  April,  1862.  k 
was  occasioned  bv  difference  of  po- 
litical views,  and  Lis  withdrawal  was 
a  subject  of  regret  to  nearly  all  the 
readers  of  the  Ti-ibune,  whfch  owed 
much  of  its  force  to  his  pungent  pen. 
After  leaving  the  Tribune  he  was  appointed  to 
several  positions  in  the  War  Department,  ami 
finally  he  became  Assistant  Secretary  of  War, 
and  rendered  very  material  service  to  the  Gov- 
ernment by  his  excellent  executive  abilities.  Hu 
had  the  confidence  of  his  chief,  and  no  imputa- 
tion was  ever  uttered  on  his  integrity.  At  the 
close  of  the  war  he  went  to  Chicago,  where  he  was 
editor  of  the  liepublican,  a  dailv  of  which  iniicli 
was  hoped.  After  a  year  he  sold  out  his  inleroBl 
and  returned  to  New  York,  where,  by  his  per- 
sonal exertions,  the  company  was  formed  which 
now  conducts  the  Sun. 

It  was  foreseen  by  the  managers  of  this  naper 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  retain  all  the 
readers  if  any  change  was  made  in  its  course, 
yet  they  boldly  made  the  experiment,  advertising 
both  at  home  and  abroad.  At  the  time  they  took 
It  the  Sun  had  a  circulation  of  about  forty-eight 
thousand  copies  daily;  this  diminished  until  it 
went  down  nearly  to  thirty-five  thousand,  when 
the  onward  wave  led  it  up  to  forty,  fifty,  sixty, 
seventy,  and  over  one  hundred  thousand  per 
dav. 

Such  success  has  rarely  been  attained  by 
newspapers.  A  thousand  make  the  experiment 
where  one  attains  such  a  result    The  indonii- 


TME   GREAT    EMPIRE   CITY. 


51 


table  eutsrgy  of  the  proprielorB  led  thom  to  con- 
tiime  thoir  efiforta,  even  wheu  tlioy  Beeniud  to  bo 
'uuproductive;  tboy  have  uot  beeu  relaxed  since. 
When  the  chaugo  took  placo  iu  the  owiiorBbip  it 
was  largely  advertasod,  and  everybody  Uuow  of 
It.  The  Sun  was  ])riuted  on  new  type  and  good 
paper,  every  one  could  read  itj  and  it  Lad  "  all 
the  new8.''  Another  secret  of  its  success  was 
that  its  reporters  were  picked  men,  not  chosen 
on  account  ot  their  relationship  to  the  proprie- 
tors, but  for  their  intrinsic  merit.  Mr.  Dana's 
wide  acquaintance  with  newspaper  men  gave 
him  excellent  opportunities  for  making  a  choice 
of  assistants,  and  he  has  improved  it.  No  men 
work  harder  or  give  more  productive  return  fur 
their  labor  tlian  the  two  principal  assistants  on 
the  Sun,  and  the  paper  shows  the  result.  Its 
paragraphs  are  read,  its  correspondence  is  full 
of  matter,  and  it  always  is  up  to,  if  not  ahead  of, 
other  journals  in  local  news. 

The  business  manage- 
ment of  the  Sun  is  under 
the  charge  of  Isaac  W. 
England,  once  city  editor 
of  tuo  New  York  Tribune, 
and  once  managing  etli- 
tor  of  the  Sun.  Under 
his  supervision  as  editor 
the  Sill  achieved  great 
ri»»iil(s,  and,  financially, 
matters  have  equally  suc- 
ceeded since.  Mr.  Eng- 
land is  tall,  and  at  pres- 
ent a  little  inclined  to 
stoutness,  of  fair  com- 
plexion and  light  hair. 
In  business  be  is  pron)pt 
and  active,  keeping  a 
sharp  oversight  on  all 
the  business  of  the  paper, 
and  pleasant  and  courte- 
ous in  manner. 


fHE  LATE  FBAMK    LESLIE. 

This  well-known  pub- 
lisher of  numerous  peri- 
odicals, illustrated  ones 
especially,  died  at  his 
residence  in  New  York 
City  on  January  10,  1880, 
he  being  then  fifty-nine 
years  old.  He  bad  been 
tor  some  time  sick  of  a 
cancer,  but  its  deadly 
character  was  so  little 
apprehended  that,  as  late 
as  one  hour  before  he  ex- 
pired, the  members  of  his 
lamily  believed  he  was 
growing  better.  His  real 
name  was  Henry  Carter, 
born  at  Ipswich,  Eng- 
land, iu  1821,  the  son  of 
Joseph  Carter,  a  glove 
manufacturer  of  that 
place.  Frank  Leslie  was 
assumed,  a  nom  deplume, 
under  which  many  a  wri- 
ter gives  his  literary  pro- 
ductions to  the  world. 
He  passed  his  boyhood 
in  his  father's  factory  to 
learn  the  glove-making 
business;  and,  that  he 
might  perfect  himself  in 
it,  he  was  sent  to  London 
at  seventeen  years  of  age, 
recommended  to  his  un- 
cle, who  had  an  exten- 
sive dry-goods  establish- 
ment in  the  capital,  and 
who    employed    bim    as 

clerk  in  tlie  glove  department.  Both  at  Ipsvrich, 
however,  and  more  in  London,  he  indulged  his 
naturally  predominant  passion  for  drawing, 
sketching,  and  engraving,  particularly  on  wood, 
devotmg  to  knowledge  and  proficiency  in  art  all 
of  his  free  hours,  and  much  also  of  the  time 
which  he  should  have  given  to  duty  as  a  trader's 
apprentice.  His  father  and  uncle  reproved  him 
for  his  wandenng  after  art,  and  it  was  cluefly  to 
escape  detection  and  reproach  that  he  sought  to 
hide  himself  under  the  name  of  Frank  Leslie. 
In  his  twentieth  year  he  chose,  and  actually  be- 
gan to  practice,  art  as  his  only  pursuit  m  life. 
At  that  ago  he  also  married,  and  three  sons 
have  been  born  to  him.  In  his  career  as  an 
artist  he  started  from  the  establishment  of  the 
IVustrated  London_  News,  whose  engraving  de- 
partment he  took  in  charge.  In  1848  he  emi- 
grated from  his  native  country  and  settled  him- 
self in  New  York  City,  and  shortly  after  arrival 
bad    his   family  name   formally  changed   into 


Frank  Leslio  by  a  special  act  of  tho  Legirtlature. 
His  tirHt  business  connection  in  America  was 
witli  (r'ea.'^oii's  Piclonai.  ijomo  time  later,  wheu 
Phiueas  T.  Uarnuiii,  with  the  Messrs.  13each, 
started  their  illustrated  paper,  negotiations  were 
made  with  Mr.  Leslie  to  superintend  tho  en- 
gravings. In  1854  Mr.  Leslie  embarked  in  tho 
Eublishiiig  business  on  his  own  account.  He 
egan  with  tho  Gazette  of  Fashions,  which  was 
soon  after  followed  by  the  Kew  Y(/rk  Journal. 
He  purchased  the  Journal  cheaply.  Under  Mr. 
Leslie's  skillful  management  it  very  speedily 
became  profitable.  On  December  14,  1855,  he 
issued  the  first  number  o[  Frank  Leslie's  Illus- 
trated, Newspaper,  tho  most  noteworthy  of  his 
periodicals.  Tho  events  regarded  most  stirring 
and  important  by  the  people  of  this  country  are 
loiind  chronicled  ana  illui5tr;itod  m  this  paper 
as  they  successively  occurred  during  the  time 
intervening  between  that  date  and  Mr.  LesUe's 


THE  LATE  FRANK   LESLIE. 

death — a  quarter  of  a  century.  In  1865  Mr.  Les- 
lie started  the  Chimney  Corner.  To  these  he 
then  added  in  rapid  succession  the  Boys'  and 
Qirls'  Weekly,  Pleasant  Hours,  the  Lady's  Jour- 
nal, edited  by  Mrs.  Leslie,  his  second  wife,  the 
Popular  Monthly,  the  Sunday  Magazine,  the 
Budget  of  Wit,  and  Chatterbor.,  and  Die  Ulus- 
trirle  Zeitung,  in  German.  Such  novels  as  from 
time  to  time  appeared  in  the  columns  of  his 
periodicals  ho  published  in  book  form  at  their 
conclusion. 

From  these  various  publications,  which  proved 
generally  profitable,  Mr.  Leslie  gathered  a  great 
(leal  of  money.  From  the  Chimney  Corner  alone 
he  is  said  to  Lave  cleared  fiftv  thousand  dollars 
in  one  year.  The  civil  war  between  North  and 
South  was  to  him  an  abundant  harvest,  the  cir- 
culation of  his  papers,  chiefly  the  illustrated 
ones,  having,  during  that  time,  exceedingly  in- 
creased. A  largo  portion  of  the  money  thus 
amassed  he  converted  into  house  and  other  im- 


movable property.  Occasionally  ho  sustained 
considerablo  Iosbch,  and  more  than  once  his 
financial  conditiou  was  not  a  little  embarrassed. 
He  may,  indeed,  be  said  to  have  died  m  that 
condition.  In  1857,  three  years  alt«r  he  had 
commenced  as  a  publisher,  the  state  of  Inn  af- 
fairs was  such  that  he  should  have  stopped  btisi- 
ness  but  that  his  creditors  granted  him  an  ex- 
tension of  time  for  payment. 

More  seriously  emoarrasscd  were  bis  aflairs 
in  1877,  when  he  was  forced  to  surrender  his 
property  into  tho  hands  of  a  receiver.  By  au 
agreement  which  tho  parties  concerned  entered 
into  at  tho  time,  the  creditors  retained  Jlr.  Lieslie 
as  general  manager  ot  hia  pnbliMhing  business, 
allowing  him  twenty  per  cent  of  tin-  profits  for 
his  use.  Mr.  Leslie's  liabilities  were,  iu  a  short 
time,  cleared  away.  Iu  April,  1879,  ho  also  judi- 
cially recovered  a"  large  piuportioii  of  his  busi- 
neae.  The  pablic'e  appreciation  of  Frank  Leslie 
m  hia  chosen  field  of  ac- 
tion was  apparently  such, 
besides  the  general  wide- 
epread  reputation  of  hia 
name,  as  must  have  grat- 
ified his  sensibilities.  In 
1848,  the  year  of  his  first 
arrival  iu  this  country, 
the  American  Institute  ot 
New  York  awarded  lO 
him  the  medal  for  wood 
engraving.  In  1867  the 
State  of  New  York  ap- 
pointed him  her  Commis- 
sioner for  the  Fine  Arts 
Department  to  the  Uni- 
versal Exhibition  held 
that  year  in  the  Flinch 
capital;  and  at  the  close 
of  it  the  Emperor  Napo- 
leon III  personally  pre- 
sented him  with  the  prize 
fold  medal.  Again,  m 
876,  the  State  of  New 
York  selected  him  as  her 
Commissioner  to  the  Cen- 
tennial  Exhibition  at 
Philadelphia,  and  his 
brother  commissioners 
from  other  States  elected 
him  president. 

His  standing  in  life's 
social  relations  with  his 
fellow-citizens    may    ap- 

Eear  from  the  fact  that 
0  had  his  family  resi- 
dence on  Filth  Avenue, 
and  was  a  member  of  the 
Manhattan  Jockey  Club. 
He  was  also  a  Freema- 
son, and  belonged  to  the 
so-called  aristocratic  Hol- 
land Lodge.  He  had  his 
rural  residence,  situated 
about  midway  between 
Saratoga  and  Lonely 
Lake,  surrounded  by  au 
estate  of  six  hundred 
acres  of  land,  called  from 
its  location  "  Interlaken." 
He  was  beloved  by  his 
employees,  who  number- 
ed for  some  time  three 
hundred,  the  amount  of 
moneypaid  them  for  their 
work  exceeding  six  thou- 
sand dollars  weekly.  To 
some  among  them,  con- 
fined to  a  bed  of  sickness, 
he  continued  the  salaries. 
One,  being  in  a  delicate 
state  of  health,  he  sent 
to  Europe,  taking  upon 
himself  the  charge  of  all  traveling  expenses,  be- 
sides continuing  to  pay  the  traveler  in  full.  He 
provided  for  the  widx)w  and  children  of  another, 
and,  generally,  whenever  any  of  his  employees 
happened  to  die,  leaving  their  famihes  destitute, 
Frank  Leslie  made  it  his  especial  care  to  supply 
their  wants. 


REV.  THOUAS  DE  WITT  TAT.WAQE. 

Rev.  T.  De  Witt  Talmage,  D.  D.,  was  born  in 
Bound  Brook,  Somerset  Co.,  New  Jersey,  Janu- 
ary 7,  1832.  He  entered  New  York  University 
in  1849,  graduating  in  1853,  and  graduated  from 
New  Brunswick  'Theological  Seminary  in  1856, 
and  the  same  year  was  called  to  the  Reformed 
Church,  Belleville,  New  Jersey.  In  1859  he  be- 
came pastor  of  the  Reformed  Church  in  Syra- 
cuse, New  York.  In  1862  he  was  called  to  the 
Second  Reformed  Church  of  Philadelphia.  la 
1869  he  accepted  the  call  to  the  Central  Pre«by 


52 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


terian  Church  of  Brooklyn.  In  1870  a  new 
church  was  built  of  wood  and  iron,  semicircular 
in  form,  holding  over  3,000  people.  This  was 
known  as  the  "  The  Brooklyn  Tabernacle."  In 
1871  this  building  was  enlarged,  but  was  de- 
stroyed by  lire  December  22,  1872.  On  Febru- 
ary 22,  1874,  a  massive  structure  of  brick  and 
stone  was  dedicated,  and  au  appeal  being  made, 
$40,000  was  raised  by  the  audience,  which  cau- 
celled  its  debt.  The  new  tabernacle  is  gothic  in 
style,  retains  the  semicircular  torm,  and  has  sit- 
tings for  4,600.  It  is  the  largest  Protestant 
church  building  in  America.  In  1872,  Mr.  Tal- 
mage  organized  in  the  old  church  building  a 
Tabernacle  Lay  College  for  training  young  men 
who  desire  to  enter  the  ministry,  but  cannot 
afford  the  time  and  expense  of  a  regular  collegi- 
ate course.  The  college  is  open  to  all  of  evan- 
gelical belief.  Instruction  is  given  by  a  corps  of 
professors  in  general  literature,  sacred  history, 
natural  and  systematic  theology,  sacred  rhe- 
toric, and  the  evidences  oi  Chistianity.  He  was 
at  oue  time  editor  of  an  undenominational  re- 
ligious journal  called  The  Christian  ai  Work. 
He  has  also  published  five  volumes  of  sermons, 
besides  "  The  Almond  Tree,"  "  Crumbs  Swept 
Up,"  "  Abominations  of  Modern  Society," 
"  Around  the  Tea-Table,"  "  Old  Wells  Dug  Out," 
"  Sports  That  Kill,"  and  "  Every  Day  Religion." 

As  illustrative  of  Mr.  Tal- 
tnage's  style  of  oratory,  we  ap- 
pend a  condensed  report  of  one 
ofhis  sermons.  Theeubjectis 
"  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd:  " 

"The  exact  meaning  of  the 
text  depends  somewhat  upon 
the  place  yon  put  the  stress. 
'The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd.' 
That  means  protection.  '  The 
Lord  is  my  Shepherd.'  That 
means  almighty  protection. 
*The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd.' 
That  means  personal  protec- 
tion. I  propose  this  morn- 
ing to  speak  to  yon  of  the 
shepherd's  plaid,  the  shep- 
herd's crook,  the  shepheriTs 
dogs,  the   shepherd's  pasture 

f rounds,  and  the  shepherd's 
ock.  It  would  be  an  ab- 
surd thing  for  a  man  to  go 
forth  for  rough  work  in  very 
exquisite  apparel.  The  pot- 
ter does  not  toil  at  the  wheel 
in  felvet,  nor  does  the  wait- 
ing-maid come  to  her  duty 
in  satin,  nor  does  the  shep- 
herd clothe  himself  in  soft 
and  exquisite  apparel  when 
he  goes  forth  among  the 
rocks  or  among  the  wilder- 
nesses, to  look  after  the  lost 
sheep.  Christ,  our  Heaven- 
ly Snepherd,  put  aside  the 
girdles  of  light  and  the  robes 
of  power  and  the  sandals  of 
beauty,  and  wrapped  Him- 
self in  the  torn  and  tattered 
and  bespoiled  garments  of 
our  luimanity — coming  forth 
on  the  mountains  to  look  after 
the  lost  sheep,  wrapped  in  the 
shepherd's  plaid.  I  Know  that 
nearly  all  the  old  painters  re- 

g resent  a  halo  around  the 
abe  Christ,  and  whether  you 
see  the  babe  Clirist's  picture  in  the  galleries  at 
Edinburgh,  or  at  Venice,  or  in  the  Louvre  and 
Luxembourg,  you  always  find  a  halo  of  light 
around  the  head  of  that  babe;  but  I  do  not  sup- 
pose there  was  any  more  halo  around  that  child's 
head  than  there  was  around  the  head  of  anv  child 
born  that  night,  that  Christmas  Eve  in  the  fand  of 
Judca.  We  often  hear  of  the  robe  that  Christ 
wore  in  after  time,  of  the  seamless  robe,  and 
people  speak  of  it  as  something  very  costly  and 
very  beautiful,  because  it  was  a  seamless  robe. 
Why,  my  friends,  there  was  no  beauty  about  it 
at  all.  The  scissors  and  the  needle  had  done 
nothing  to  make  it  graceful.  It  was  just  a  rough 
sack  with  three  holes  in  it,  one  for  the  neck  and 
two  for  the  arms.  You  tell  me  that  the  soldiers 
gambled  for  that  seamless  robe  at  Christ's  cruci- 
fixion. That  is  no  proof  that  it  was  a  valuable 
garment.  I  have  seen  two  beggars  quarrel  over 
the  refuse  of  an  anh  barrel.  It  was  not  a  costly 
garment,  it  was  not  a  remarkable  garment.  It 
was  an  old  garment,  a  homely  garment,  perhaps 
a  repulsive  garment  that  Christ  wore.  I  come, 
in  the  next  place,  to  speak  of  the  shepherd's 
crook.  That  is  a  rod  with  a  curve  at  the  end 
which  has  to  be  dropped  on  the  neck  of  a  sheep 
when  it  goes  astray,  and  with  that  crook  it  is 
pulled  back.    When  not  employed  in  that  way 


the  shepherd  would  often  use  it  as  a  crutch  to 
lean  upon.  I  have  a  shepherd's  crook  at  my 
house  full  of  suggestiveness  to  me.  When  I 
jiarted  in  1879  from  the  Earl  of  Kintore,  in  Lon- 
don, he  said  to  me:  '  Mr.  Talmage,  when  you  get 
to  America,  send  me  a  stick  ' — by  which  the  Eng- 
hshman  or  Scotchman  means  a  cans — '  and  then 
I  will  send  you  a  stick.'  I  started  the  cane  from 
New  York  for  Aberdeen,  Scotland,  but  before  it 
got  there  the  good  Scotch  earl  had  entered  upon 
higher  honors  than  Great  Britain  could  ever  give 
him — even  the  honors  that  are  before  the  throne 
of  God.  After  a  while  came,  in  careful  package, 
a  shepherd's  crook — the  first  one  I  ever  saw, 
meaning  more  to  me  as  it  stands  in  my  house 
than  any  other  shepherd's  crook  possibly  could 
mean.  It  was  sent  to  me,  I  suppose,  as  sug- 
gestive of  my  work  as  au  under  shepherd,  the 
office  that  every  minister  of  Jesua  Christ  holds. 
Well,  now,  the  shepherd's  crook  was  an  absolute 
necessity  in  olden  times — bringing  back  the  lost 
sheep,  finding  one  wandering  out  in  this  direc- 
tion, pulling  him  back— finding  a  sheep  wander- 
ing out  in  another  direction,  pulling  him  back. 
AU  we,  like  sheep,  have  gone  astray,  and  if  the 
Lord  had  not  dropped  His  crook  upon  us  and 
pulled  us  back  long  ago,  we  would  nave  fallen 
over  the  precipices.  There  is  a  man  who  is 
making  too  much  money.     He  has  got  proud,  he 


has  got  vain,  hifl  heart  is  puffed  up,  he  says:  '  I 
am  independent  of  everything.  My  soul,  eat, 
drink,  and  be  merry;  you  are  provided  for.' 
Disaster  comes,  commercial  misfortune.  His  es- 
tates fly.  lie  gets  down  on  his  knees  and  says:  'O 
Lord,  art  Thou  against  me,  that  all  my  estate  is 
swept  away?'  Oh,  no,  my  brother,  the  Lord 
has  not  any  grudge  against  you;  He  has  only 
dropped  on  you  the  shepherd's  crook,  not  in 
wrath  but  in  mercy,  pulling  you  back  out  ot  your 
worldliness.  There  is  a  man  who  has  no  pa- 
tience with  invalids.  He  calls  them  a  wheezing, 
coughing  crew,  and  it  makes  him  nervous  to 
hear  them  about  the  house,  or  in  a  railroad 
train,  or  at  a  summer  watering-place.  After  a 
while  his  health  will  go,  and  the  man  will  wake 
up  and  he  will  say:  '  Oh,  Lord,  art  thou  against 
me?'  Oh,  nol  the  Lord  is  not  against  you;  He 
has  just  put  the  shepherd's  crook  on  you  to  pull 
you  back  out  of  your  worldliness,  and  to  pull 
you  back  into  gracious  sympathies.  You  find 
apples  and  plums  in  the  shade  of  the  tree,  and 
richest  Christian  fruits  are  to  be  found  in  the 
deep  shadow  of  trouble.  During  the  last  war 
the  question  was  often  asked:  '  Will  the  colored 
soldiers  fight  well  if  they  are  put  in  the  army  ? ' 
The  question  was  asked  at  the  North  and  at  the 
South,  and  the  colored  troope  were  tried  on  both 


sides,  and  they  were  heroic.  And  I  toll  yt;a,  my 
friends,  it  is  not  the  white  regiment  of  ;cy,  it  la 
not  the  white  regiment  of  gladness  that  wins  the 
greatest  victory  for  your  soul,  but  the  black 
regiment  of  trial,  the  black  regiment  of  tempta- 
tion and  want  and  woe  that  is  going  to  get  for 
you  the  greatest  victory.  I  take  all  the  glad- 
nesses of  your  life  and  put  them  in  one  regiment 
of  ten  companies,  under  Colonel  Joy,  and  then 
I  gather  all  the  sorrows  of  your  life,  and  I  put 
them  m  one  regiment  of  ten  companies  under 
Colonel  Breakheart.  Which  gets  the  greater 
triumph  ?  The  regiment  under  Colonel  Break- 
heart.  I  come,  in  the  next  place,  to  speak  of  the 
shepherd's  dogs.  They  go  after  those  sheep 
which  are  astray  and  bring  them  back  in  the 
fold.  Every  shepherd  has  dogs — every  shep- 
herd from  the  nomads  of  Bible  time  down  to 
the  Scotch  herdsman  watching  his  flocks  on  the 
Grampion  Hills.  And  our  Heavenly  Shepherd 
has  his  dogs.  They  are  tlie  persecutions  and 
trials  ol  this  life  which  hound  us  back  to  the 
fold,  for  you  know  there  are  those  who  spend 
their  whole  hfe  in  barking  at  Chnstians.  Let  a 
Christian  go  astray,  or  let  him  show  any  imper- 
fection of  character,  how  many  of  these  dogs 
there  are  that  will  hound  him,  to  bark  at  him, 
and  to  bite  at  him;  and  they  howl  and  they  bark, 
and  the  Lord  just  allows  them  to  drive  the  sheep 
back  to  the  fold.  Your  perse- 
cutions and  your  trials  are  not 
to  make  you  mad;  they  are  to 
save  you.  They  are  the  Lord's 
dogs  gone  out  to  drive  you  in. 
Almost  everybody  has  the 
bounds  after  him  sometimes. 
Sometimes  it  is  an  ecclesiasti- 
cal dog,  sometimes  it  is  a  po- 
litical dog,  sometimes  it  is  a 
social  dog.  I  come  next  to 
speakof  the  shepherd's  pasture 
ground.  The  shepherd  drives 
Lis  sheep  to  the  mountains  in 
summer,  down  into  the  valleys 
in  winter.  So  the  Lord  leacls 
His  flocks — in  the  summer  to 
the  mountains,  in  the  winter 
to  the  valleys.  By  which  1 
mean  that  in  warm  days  ot 
prosperity  He  leads  us  up  on 
sun-gilt  Sabbath  tops  and  on 
hills  of  transfiguration,  and  we 
are  so  high  up  we  can  almost 
see  the  gates  of  the  great  city. 
Then  there  come  wintry  blasts 
and  storms  ot  trouble,  and  He 
drives  us  down  into  the  valley, 
and  we  say:  '  Is  any  one's  sor- 
row like  unto  mv  sorrow?' 
But  blessed  be  God,  His  sheep 
can  find  pasture  anywhere. 
But  I  remark  once  more,  iu 
regard  to  the  sliepherd's  fold: 
At  sheep  shearing  time  there 
waH  great  rejoicing  in  olden 
times  and  in  lauds  where  they 
had  shepherds.  There  was  a 
wall  enclosing  the  sheep  so  that 
the  shepherd  could  go  out  and 
count  the  sheep  easily,  and  «ce 
if  any  had  been  carried  oft'  by 
the  jackals,  or  any  had  L<-en 
wounded.  That  was  called 
the  lost  sheep.  And  tlio  Lord 
has  His  sheepfold.  I  speak 
now  of  the  place  He  has  pro- 
vided for  His  loved  ones  in  the  better  country. 
How  the  old  sheep  will  be  glad  when  they  see  the 
lost  lambs.    MiUiona  of  children  in  heaven!  " 

BEV.    HEXBr  WABD   BEECHEB. 

Henry  Ward  Beecher,  the  celebrated  author 
and  divine,  son  of  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  was  born 
at  Litchfield,  Conn.,  June  24,  1813.  At  an  early 
age  he  had  a  strong  predilection  for  a  seafaring 
hfe,  which,  however,  he  renounced  in  conse- 
quence of  the  deep  religious  impressions  whicli 
he  experienced  during  a  revival.  Having  gradu- 
ated at  Amherst  College  in  1834,  he  devoted  him- 
self to  the  study  of  theology  at  Lane  Seminary 
under  the  tuition  of  his  lather,  who  was  then 
president  of  that  institution.  He  became,  in 
1847,  pastor  of  the  Plymouth  (Congregational) 
Church  in  Brooklyn,  where  his  genial  and 
original  eloquence  "has  continued  to  attract  the 
largest  congregation,  it  is  said,  in  the  United 
States.  He  was  editor  of  the  Independent  from 
1861  to  1863,  when  he  visited  Europe  for  the 
benefit  of  his  health.  His  earnest  aadresses  to 
large  audiences  on  the  subject  of  the  American 
war  appear  to  have  ha<'  considerable  influence 
in  turning  the  current  of  public  opinion  in  Great 
Britain  in  favor  of  the  Dnion  "ause. 

The  epeeohea  Mr,  Beechei  made  in  England 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


53 


■wei'e  really  parts  of  ono  Bpeoch.  They  presented 
the  different  views  of  the  great  question  of  our 
war.  But  they  were  ho  colloquuil,  8o  racy,  so 
trenchant,  so  eloquent,  so  alert,  so  iinpertiirba- 
hlo,  that  they  will  stand  among  the  most  effective 
speeches  ou  record.  Wo  were  wonderfully  for- 
tunate in  our  udvocato.  CircuniBtances  and  hm 
own  genius  had  made  him  a  roco^uized  mediator 
between  England  and  this  country.  It  is  not 
often  the  lot  of  a  private  citizen  to  bo  the  inttucn- 
tial  mediator  between  nations.  And  yet  Ihern 
can  be  no  doubt  that  our  friends  in  Kngland 
hoard  in  Mr.  Beecher's  speeches  the  voice  of 
this  country  plainly  saying  what  they  had  but 
imperfectly  understood  and  vaguely  felt.  Mr. 
lieecher  has  also  been  a  prominent  advocate  of 
iiuti-slavery  and  temperance  reform,  and  more 
recently  of  the  rights  of  women.  Among  his 
principal  works  are  "  Lectures  to  Young  Men  " 
(1850),  "Star  Paijers"  (1855),  "Lite  Thoughts" 
(1858),  "Royal  Truths"  (18(J4),  a  novel,  "Nor- 
wood "  (1864),  and  "  Life  of  Christ,"  Vol  I,  1871. 
He  became  editor  of  the  Chri.itiuti  Union  in  1870. 


RUFUS  H.\Trn. 
No  man  in  New  York  is  better  known  and  bet- 
ter liked  than  Rufus  Hatch.  He 
is  a  particular  favorite  of  newspa- 
per men,  who  delight  in  interview- 
ing "  Uncle  Rufus  "  and  not  the 
K'ss  so  of  the  reading  public,  be- 
cause they  always  find  in  what  he 
has  to  say  spicy  and  witty  expres- 
sions, and  the  refreshing  hearti- 
ness and  good-will  of  which  his 
countenance  gives  abundant  indi- 
cation. Mr.  Hatch  is  not  an  old 
man,  being  under  fifty-one  years 
of  age,  and  everybody  who  knows 
him  shares  in  the  expectation  that 
^  he  will  furnish  tidbits  in  the  way  of 
quaint  and  clever  sayings  for  an- 
other generation  yet.  His  physical 
appearance  and  condition  warrant 
this  pleasant  anticipation.  Vigor- 
ous, active,  and  careful  of  his 
health,  with  an  unfailing  flow  of 
good  spirits,  spicy  speech,  and 
kindly  feeling,  the  absence  of 
"  Uncle  Rufus  "  fi-om  his  usual  re- 
sorts in  the  Empire  City  is  in  the 
nature  of  a  public  calamity.  Long 
may  he  flourish! 

'The  picture  gives  an  excellent 
idea  of  the  frank  and  open  counte- 
nance with  which  nature  has  fa- 
vored Mr.  Hatch,  and  which  is  the 
fitting  "  frontispiece  "  of  a  sturdy 
body  formed  for  strength  and  ac- 
tivity, the  enjoyment  of  the  good 
things  of  this  life,  and  to  give  a 
comely  and  fine  presence  and  ex- 
ecutive force  to  a  man  shrewd  and 
sagacious,  energetic  and  worldly- 
wise,  and  at  the  same  time  over- 
flowing with  "  the  milk  of  human 
kindness." 

Mr.  Hatch  is  a  native  of  Maine, 
and  was  born  at  Wells,  York  Co., 
on  the  24th  of  June,  1832.  His  fa- 
ther was  a  farmer,  and  brought 
his  son  up  in  the  pursuit  of  agri- 
culture. The  elder  Hatch  was  a 
judicious  parent,  gentle  and  com- 
panionable with  nis  boy,  whose 
judgment  and  self-respect  he  care- 
fully cultivated  and  fostered.  At 
nineteen  Rufus  left  home  for  the 
'  A  West,  urged  by  the  ambition  to  im- 
prove his  circumstances  and  enlarge  his  sphere 
of  activity.  He  soon  procured  employment  as 
helper  to  the  corps  of  engineers  who  surveyed 
for  the  first  railway  constructed  in  Wisconsin, 
and  which  now  forms  a  portion  of  the  Chicago 
and  Northwestern  Railroad.  About  three  years 
after  this  time  Mr.  Hatch  had  acquired  suflScient 
means  to  justify  his  starting  in  business  for  him- 
self. Accordingly,  he  opened  an  office  in  Chi- 
cago as  a  g^ain  oroker.  In  a  short  time  he  be- 
came a  member  in  the  firm  of  Armstrong  &  Co. 
of  that  city,  the  phenomenal  success  of  which 
preceded  tiie  collapse  in  its  fortunes  occasioned 
fcy  the  rapid  decline  in  the  price  of  grain  result- 
ing from  the  hasty  termination  of  the  Crimean 
war  in  March,  1856.  Mr.  Hatch  honorably  shoul- 
dered the  obUgations  of  the  house,  and  paid  off 
every  dollar  of  its  indebtedness  with  interest  as 
soon  as  he  was  able,  notwithstanding  that  all  of 
the  accounts  had  outrun  the  Statute  of  ijimita- 
tions.  In  1862  he  went  to  New  York  City  with 
the  slender  capital  of  only  two  thousand  Ipllars. 
At  that  time  Henry  Keep  was  the  leading  jail- 
road  broker  iu  the  commercial  capital  ofthe 


New  World.  He  encouraged  the  newcomer  in 
his  enterprises,  and  both  men  bouglit  largely  of 
Chicago  and  Northwestern  stock,  to  the  credit  of 
their  sagacity  and  the  liberal  increase  of  their 
fortune.  Mr'.  Hatch  soon  became  a  considerable 
man  on  the  street.  Ho  originated  tlio  Open 
Board  of  Brokers,  and  was  the  first  vice-presi- 
dent of  this  organization,  which  grew  into  tlio 
Stock  Exchange.  Wlien  thw  body  was  instituted 
tliree-fourths  of  its  members  offered  tlie  presi- 
dency to  Mr.  Hatch,  who  declined  it.  Tlie  panic 
of  1873  used  "  Uncle  Rufus"  very  harshly,  Ijut 
he  struggled  gamely  along  against  adversity  un- 
til 1870,  when  ho  failed.  During  a  portion  of  the 
interval  between  these  dates  he  was  vice-presi- 
dent and  managing  director  of  the  Pacific  Mail 
Steamship  Company.  TIio  confidence  of  liie  as- 
sociate's was  evidenced  llatteringly  at  the  time  of 
his  failure  in  his  beuig  reinstated  m  his  member- 
ship on  the  Stock  Exchange  by  the  unanimous 
vote  of  its  members — a  confidence  confirmed  by 
his  payment  of  every  dollar  he  owed  just  as  soon 
as  ho  could  manage  to  do  it.  Mr.  Hatch  sold  his 
seat  in  the  Stock  Exchange  two  years  ago,  but  is 
active  as  can  be  in  his  business,  which  is  now 
principally  as  a  dealer  in  cattle.  He  is  presi- 
aent  of  the  American  Board  of  the  Cattle  Ranch 


than  ordinary  interest  to  the  man  junt  now. 
His  shrewd  and  witty  answers  on  that  occasion 
have  excited  an  admiration  wideH])read  as  the 
circulation  of  the  papers  in  winch  they  were  re- 
ported. Asked  whether  he  was  familiar  with 
the  system  of  making  corners,  ho  replied:  "  I've 
heard  people  speak  about  them.  I  never  made 
a  corner  myseli."  "  Do  you  know  of  others  do- 
ing soV"  "I  know  uotuiug  of  other  piioplc's 
business."  He  understood  a  corner  "  to  be 
madu  by  buying  more  than  there  is  in  existence 
of  a  certain  commodity— stock,  bonds,  coal,  oil, 
meat,  grain— cabbage  iicads:"  and  thought  the 
purpose  of  a  corner  "maybe  to  secure  some- 
thing for  home  consumption,  or  it  may  be  for  a 
profit.  It  may  be  to  sell  again  to  the  man  who 
lias  sold  you  what  he  hasn't  got."  Sir.  Hatch 
condemned  futures,  corners,  and  the  watering  of 
stock.  His  influence  as  a  business  man  has 
been  favorable  to  the  public  well-being.  He 
originated  the  phrase  "  slioin  lambs,"  as  applied 
to  the  unfortunate  small  speculators  who  arc 
"fleeced"  by  stronger  and  richer  men.  Mr 
Hatch  uses  the  pen  with  an  effect  perhaps  equal 
to  that  of  his  spicy  conversation.  His  biirlcetpic 
upon  the  Northwestern  Pacific  Railroad  scheme, 
first  published  in  1871,  was  widely  circulated  in 
Europe  as  well  as  in  America.  He 
possesses  a  good  library  and  revels 
among  his  books.  Ono  of  his  most 
favorite  recreations  is  music,  and 
he  is  readily  pardoned  a  little  van- 
ity on  the  score  of  his  possessing 
the  best  private  library  in  New 
York  City  of  works  on  that  art.  At 
an  earlier  period  of  bis  life  he  was 
an  accomplished  organist,  and  still 
performs  with  excellent  taste.  His 
charities  are  generous. 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 

and  Land  Company  (Limited)  of  London,  and 
has  been  very  successful  in  pushing  its  business 
in  this  country. 

Mr.  Hatch  is  emphatically  a  family  man,  sim- 
ple as  a  child  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  home. 
His  first  wife  was  Miss  Charlotte  Hatch,  though 
of  the  same  name  not  related  to  him,  to  whom 
he  was  married  in  1853,  and  who  lived  with  him 
in  happy  companionship  twenty  years,  when  she 
died,  leaving  three  children,  two  boys  and  one 
daughter.  The  last-named  is  the  wife  of  William 
E.  Kimball,  an  eminent  dry-goods  merchant  of 
New  York.  Mr.  Hatch's  second  wife  is  the 
daughter  of  Commodore  Gray.  She  has  borne 
him  one  child,  a  son,  named  after  ex-Senator 
Conkling,  at  a  time  when  that  statesman's  politi- 
cal fortunes  were  most  decidedly  at  ebb.  This 
choice  of  name  is  characteristic  of  Mr.  Hatch, 
who  stands  by  his  friends  when  they  need  sym- 

Eathy,  expressions  of  respect,  or  more  substantial 
elp  the  most. 

Reports  of  Mr.  Hatch's  recent  appearance  be- 
fore a  committee  of  the  New  York  Senate  receiv- 
ing testimony  ou  corners  and  futures  give  a  more 


WILLIAM  H.   VANDEBBrLT. 

William  H.  Vanderbilt  is  the  old- 
est son  of  the  late  Commodore  Cor- 
nelius Vanderbilt.  He  was  born  at 
the  summer  residence  of  his  fa- 
ther, New  Brunswick,  N.  J.,  and, 
after  an  excellent  and  practical 
education  at  Columbia  College 
Grammar  School,  he  entered,  m 
his  eighteenth  year,  the  financial 
house  of  Drew,  Robinson  &  Co., 
New  York,  where  he  exhibited  such 
industry  and  executive  ability  that, 
on  the  expiration  of  two  years,  he 
was  offered  a  partnership.  The 
close  confinement,  however,  hav- 
ing begun  to  prey  on  his  health, 
be  determined  to  take  up  farming 
as  a  means  of  recuperation;  and, 
the  Commodore  having  bought  him 
seventy- five  acres  of  unimproved 
land  on  Staten  Island,  he  at  once 
took  his  young  wife  there,  and  set 
to  work  with  such  skill  and  energy 
that  he  not  only  cleared  the  seven- 
ty-five acres,  but  soon  had  a  larger 
tract  puichased,  and  three  hun- 
dred and  filty  acres  under  crop. 

In  relation  to  this  seventy-five 
acres,  Mr.  Vanderbilt  alleges,  it  is 
said,  that  it  tried  him  sorely,  as  he 
had  not  sufficient  means  to  work 
and  improve  it  thoroughly;  nor 
would  his  father  advance  him  a 
dollar  to  aid  him.  In  this  extrem- 
ity he  mortgaged  the  land  for 
$6,000,  which  he  turned  to  good 
account;  and  the  circumstance 
coming  to  the  Commodore's  ears, 
the  old  gentleman  observed  to  him  as  they  were 
riding  together  on  one  occasion: 

"  So  you  mortgaged  the  New  Dorp  farm  for 
$6,000,  did  you?  Yon  don't  amount  to  a  row  of 
pins,  and  never  will." 

"  I  did  mortgage  the  farm,"  replied  the  son, 
"  and  have  put  every  cent  of  the  money  right 
into  improving  the  land. " 

"  Well,"'  continued  the  Commodore,  "  I'll  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  you,  for  you'll  only 
bring  disgrace  on  yourself,  your  family,  anil 
everybody  connected  with  youl" 

This  latter  prognostication  does  not  appear  to 
have  been  fumlled;  and,  as  to  Mr.  Vanderbilt 
never  amounting  to  a  row  of  pins,  we  think  there 
has  been  no  very  clear  verification  of  this  asser- 
tion either.  However,  the  Commodore  does  not 
seem  to  have  put  much  faith  in  the  one  or  the 
other,  for  the  morning  after  the  conversation 
took  place  he  sent  the  son  a  check  for  $6,000, 
ordenng  him  to  pay  off  the  mortgage  immedi- 
ately. 

Shortly  after  this  period  the  Staten  Island  Rail- 
road Company  became  embarrassed,  when  Mr. 


54 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


Vanderbilt  and  bis  \incle  Jacob  entering  the 
management,  relieved  Ihe  road  of  its  difficulties 
and  improved  its  prospocts  lu  a  marked  degree. 
The  experience  acqnued  here  gave  the  subject 
of  our  portrait  such  an  insight  into  railroad  af- 
fairs, and  so  advanced  him  in  the  opinion  of  cer- 
tain capitalists  and  stockholders,  that,  in  1864, 
he  was  elected  Vice-President  of  tlie  New  York 
and  Harlem,  and  in  1856  of  the  Hudson  River 
Line,  which,  under  his  management,  became  so 
prosperous,  that  he  was  unheeitatmgly  recog- 


BtrrUS  HATCH. 

nized  as  not  only  a  railroad  manager  of  profound 
knowledge  and  experience,  but  worthy  the  con- 
fidence of  the  Commodore  to  the  fullest  extent. 
It  was  now  plain  sailing  until  the  death  of  his 
father,  wlien,  as  all  the  world  knows,  he  sudden- 
ly became  possessed  of  untold  wealth. 

In  1841,  Mr.  Vanderbilt  married  Miss  Eissam, 
the  daughter  of  a  Now  York  clergyman,  and  a 
Gliristian  lady  of  sterling  qualities  and  attain- 
ments. This  union  has  been  bloat  with  nine 
children,  eight  of  whom  are  still  alive,  com- 
prising a  most  iiiterestmg  and  charming  family 
of  sons  and  daughters,  all  finely  educated.  He 
has  made  various  visits  to  Europe,  where  he  has 
purchased  numerous  works  of  art  for  the  adorn- 
ment of  his  homo  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic. 
His  charities  and  public  spirit  nro  not  uuwortliy 
his  vast  wealth,  although  ho  does  not  seem  to 
court  notoriety  through  these  channels.  Tins 
may  be  inferred  from  the  fact,  that  notwithstand- 
ing ho  had  defrayed  the  whole  cost  of  the  re- 
moval of  tUo  obelisk,  Cleopatra's  Needle,  from 
Alexandria,  Egypt,  to  its' site  in  Central  Park, 
New  York,  it  was  some  time  before  the  public 
was  made  awaro  of  the  ciroiimHt.ince. 

Mr.  Vanderbilt  is  now  sixty  years  of  age,  and 
is  still  hale  and  active.  When  in  New  York  ho 
spends  much  of  his  time  with  his  family  and  the 
few  Iriends  he  has  selected  from  among  his 
many  acquaintances.  In  private  life  ho  is  frank, 
opeu  and  generous,  but  always  has  an  eye  to  bu»i- 
ness.  There  is  nothing  about  his  dross  or  gen- 
eral appearance  to  distinguish  him  from  an  ordi- 
nary American  gcntlemau.  His  hair  was  once 
dark,  but  is  now  iron  gray,  and  his  side  whiskers 
large  and  llowiiig,  although  ho  wears  no  mous- 
taone.  Ho  is  rattier  heavily  built,  and  looks  like 
a  man  who  has  yet  many  years  of  usefulness  be- 
fore him.  He  is  the  richest  man  in  the  world, 
\iis  wealth  being  estimated  at  three  hundred 
iiiillions  of  dollars.  His  new  mansion  on  Filth 
Avenue  is  one  of  the  most  maguidcent  in  this 
country,  and  cost  $2,000,000. 


CYRUS  W.  FIELJ3. 

CosrPARATi\'ELY  but  few  men  have  so  directed 
their  individual  business  activity  as  to  make 
their  names  prominent  as  those  of  eminent 
statesmen,  the  directors  of  nations,  and  the  ad- 
miration of  the  whole  world.  Mr.  Cyrus  West 
Field  is  one  of  those  distingnished  commercial 
persons,  possessed  of  the  faculty  to  see  the  far- 
reaching  importance  of  certain  enterprises,  the 
courage  to  engage  in  them  in  their  earliest  Btace, 
and  to  devote  money,  time,  and  indefatigable 
personal  e-^Virt  to  their  accomplishment.  The 
life  of  Mr.  Field  is  a  remarkably  interesting 
record  of  business  efifort,  so  directed  as  to  give 


distinction  broad  as  the  extent  of  civilization  and 
to  be  perpetuated  throughout  the  future  history 
of  human  progress. 

Cyrus  West  Field  was  born  at  Stockbridge, 
Mass.,  November  30,  1819.  Alter  receiving  a 
fair  education  in  hie  native  place,  he  was  placed 
in  a  counting-house  in  New  York  City,  where  he 
developed  a  capacity  lor  business,  which,  m  a 
few  years,  placed  him  at  the  head  of  a  large  es- 
tablishment. He  was  about  thirty-five  years  of 
age  when  his  attention  was  first  directed  to  the 
subject  of  ocean  telegraphy.  In  a  short  time 
this  attention  took  a  practical  turn,  when  be 
procured  from  the  legislature  of  Newfoundland 
the  exclusive  right  for  fifty  years  to  establish  a 
telegraph  from  this  continent  'lo  Newfoundland 
and  thence  to  Europe.  He  devoted  himself  with 
exemplary  energy  to  the  accomplishment  of  this 
great  scheme,  which  involved  as  its  initial  under- 
taking the  providing  of  Newfoundland  with  the 
means  of  telegraphic  communication.  The  two 
attempts  to  lay  the  submarine  cable  between 
Cape  Bay  and  Cape  Breton  followed,  the  second 
a  success.  Next  in  order  came  the  expedition 
of  1857-'58,  by  means  of  which  telegraphic  com- 
munication was  established  between  the  conti- 
nent of  America  and  the  island  of  Newfound- 
land. 

When,  in  1865  and  1866,  attempts  were  made  to 
lay  the  Atlantic  cable,  Mr.  Field  assisted,  in  con- 
nection with  other  eminent  business  men,  foreign 
and  American,  in  this  gigantic  undertaking, 
winch,  in  the  second  of  these  years,  proved  suc- 
cessful. His  labors  at  this  time  involved  more 
than  fifty  passages  across  the  Atlantic,  and  were 
rewarded  with  the  acknowledgment  of  his  fel- 
low-citizens, taking  the  form  of  a  gold  medal 
voted  to  him  and  some  of  his  fellow- workers  by 
the  Congress  of  the  United  States.  Abroad,  his 
services  in  this  connection  have  been  tlattcrmgly 
recognized,  including  the  bestowal  of  the  grand 
medal  by  the  Exposition  of  Pans.  His  latest 
great  business  enterprise  was  that  of  assisting  in 
the  construction  of  the  Third  Avenue  Elevated 
Railroad  of  New  York,  by  a  company  of  which 
he  was  president. 

BUSSELL   SAOE. 

Fob  a  period  approaching  a  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury, ever  since  the  year  1860,  Mr.  Russell  Sage 
has  transacted  business  ou  Wall  Street,  and  in 
now  a  millionaire  the  extent  of  whose  wealth  is 
only  guessed  at,  but  probably  exceeds  the  num- 
ber of  millions  represented  by  the  fingers  aiul 
thumbs  of  both  hands.  He  is  a  native  of  New 
York  State,  burn  at  Verona,  Oiitida  County,  Au- 
gust 15,  1816.  His  parents  were  poor,  and  he 
received  a  very  limited  edncalion.  When  fifteen 
years  old,  he  int'-n-.l   the  grocerj'  business  aa 


WILIIAM    JJ.    VANUEKUILT. 

assistant  to  his  brother  Henry  Sage,  who  "  ran  " 
a  small  store  at  Troy,  N.  Y.,  and  with  whom  he 
remained  three  years.  During  this  engagement, 
as  in  the  operations  of  the  playground  previous- 
ly, young  Sage  is  said  to  have  manifested  peculiar 
aptitude  in  trading  and  a  disposition  to  take  care 
ot  what  this  commercial  instinct  brought  him. 
When  eighteen  years  old,  ho  took  a  step  in  ad- 
vance by  associating  himself  as  partner  with  his 
brother  Elislia.  The  brothers  conducted  a  gro- 
cery and  provision  business,  to  which  the  younger 


of  them  added  transactions  of  a  profitable  char- 
acter, which  included  trading  in  horses.  In  all 
his  multifarious  business,  Mr.  Sage  was  straight- 
forward and  honorable.  "  Old  Integrity,"  as  ho 
is  sometimes  called  on  Wall  Street,  has  always 
acted  in  a  manner  not  compromising  to  his  good 
name.  His  integrity,  m  fact,  has  proved  a  strong 
element  in  his  success.  Incessant  and  well- 
directed  efifort  by  the  partners  gave  them  the 
means  to  buy  a  siiip  in  which  their  country  pro- 
duce wae  transported  to  New  Y'ork  for  sale. 


CTBBS   W.    FIELD. 

When,  in  the  course  of  time  the  partnership  with 
Elisba  was  dissolved,  Russell  became  a  member 
of  the  firm  of  Rates  <fe  Sage,  upon  the  dissolution 
of  which  lie  began  business  alone.  Afterwards 
as  the  junior  partner  of  Slocum  &  Sage,  he  con- 
tinued to  be  interested  in  heavy  transactions  in 
grain,  beef,  pork  and  flour,  and  in  packing  beef 
and  pork  in  the  West.  By  contracting  to  supply 
beef  and  other  provisions  to  the  United  States 
Navy,  Mr.  Sage's  capital  was  augmented.  Troy, 
of  course,  shared  in  tho  prosperity  of  the  young 
merchant,  who  was  one  of  tho  founders  of  the 
Bank  of  Troy,  and  afterwards  a  director  and 
Vice-President  of  that  prosperous  institution. 
In  1852,  Ihe  consolidation  of  certain  railroads 
between  Albany  and  Bufifalo  resulted  in  the  for- 
mation of  tho  New  York  Central  Railroad.  Tho 
city  of  Troy,  which  had  originally  owned  the 
Schenectady  and  Troy  Railroad,  had  sold  it  to 
ex-Governor  E.  D.  Morgan  at  such  a  low  price 
that  he  was  able  to  mako  a  large  profit  by  dis- 
posing of  it  to  tho  New  York  Central.  Mr.  Sage 
was  interested  in  this  sale,  his  first  railroad 
transaction.  He  afterwards,  in  1857,  bought  an 
interest  in  the  Mihvaukco  and  St.  Paul  Railroad, 
and  increased  his  share  m  the  system  of  rail- 
roads now  known  as  that  of  Milwaukee  and  St. 
Paul,  by  snbsoquent  investments;  and  by  dint  of 
courage  and  light,  as  well  as  financial  scheming, 
was  rich  111  stocks  and  bonds  at  tho  outbreak  of 
the  Civil  War.  He  acted  as  a  director  of  tho 
Milwaukee  and  St.  Paul  Railroad  for  a  consid- 
erable tunc,  until  1874,  when  he  withdrew  in 
consequence  of  a  dispute  with  its  President.  As 
was  stilted  before,  ho  entered  Wall  Street  in  18G0. 
He  was  at  that  time  worth  about  $800,000.  Since 
then  ho  has  been  one  of  tho  largest  stockholdirs 
of  the  Importers'  and  Traders'  Bank  of  New 
York  City.  In  1872,  he  began  to  sell  privileges 
as  a  business,  and  is  best  known  as  an  operator 
on  Wall  Street  in  this  connection.  Mr.  Sage  was 
largely  interested  in  the  sale  of  tho  Atlantic  and 
Pacific  Telegraph  Company's  business  to  the 
Western  Union.  He  has  an  oflBce  in  William 
Street,  New  York,  an  unpretending  place,  but 
the  center  of  great  wealth  and  an  untiring  vigi- 
lance. 

Mr.  Sago  has  made  quite  a  reputation  in  poli- 
tics. Ho  is  an  ardent  Republican,  as  ho  had 
been  before  an  ardent  Whig.  Ho  served  as  an 
Alderman  in  Troy  from  1843  to  1850,  and  was 
Treasurer  of  Rensselaer  County  from  1848  to 
1851.  In  1848,  ho  served  as  delegate  in  tho 
Whig  National  Convention,  wherein  ho  distin- 
guished himself  in  tho  interest  of  Henry  Clay. 
Beaten  while  running  for  Congress  in  1850,  two 
years  afterward  ho  was  triuraphantlv  returned 
as  a  Representative  to  tho  Thirty-third  Confiross. 
In  1854,  he  was  re-elected,  and  in  1856  distin- 


THE    GREAT    EMPIRE   CITY. 


55 


giiisUed  liiinsclf  by  a  speech  on  the  Kuiiaus  mid 
Slavery  quostions.  Only  a  year  afterward,  ho 
retir«.Ml  from  politics,  after  havin(j  made  himself 
'a  good  ix'corj  in  CougrcsH  both  an  a  debater  and 
committec-mau. 

Uussell  Sago's  eiuinonuc  rests  chiefly  upon 
lus  promiueuco  "  on  the  street, "  where  his  Iti- 
tegnty  is  as  remarkable  as  his  astuteness.  It 
should  not  bo  forgotten  that  Mr.  iSago  has  church 
coDuections,  in  which  his  contributions  have 
been  eoraotiuics  oonspiouous. 


AUGUST  BELMONT. 

This  lamoua  New  York  banker  was  born  in 
Alzey,  in  the  Palatinate,  on  the  left  bank  of  the 
Khinc,  in  181G.  When  but  thirteen  years  of  age 
he  entered  the  banking  house  of  the  Rothschilds, 
and  in  April,  1837,  came  to  this  country  as  their 
American  correspondent. 

Though  a  vorj'  young  man,  he  established  a 
banking  house  in  May,  1837,  which  has  steadily 
grown,  under  his  careful  supervision,  until  to- 
aay  it  stands  among  the  first  in  the  world. 

With  the  exception  of  the  four  years  when  Mr. 
Belmont  was  luiuister  to  The  Hague,  he  has  re- 
sided in  the  United  States,  and  during  the  forty- 
six  years  of  active  business  life  has  amassed  a 
very  large  fortune.  He  has  taken  an  active  inter- 
est in  the  politics  of  the  nation,  and  was  chairman 
of  the  National  Democratic  Committee  from  1860 
to  1872.  During  hia  residence  in  this  country, 
lie  has  attained,  not  only  prominence  as  a  finan- 
cial manager,  but  also  popularity  as  a  gentle- 
man and  a  staunch  advocate  of  manhood  and 
honesty. 

A  slight  lameness  in  his  walk  is  the  result  of  a 
duel  with  Mr.  Haywardof  South  Carolina,  whose 
insulting  and  uncalled  for  remarks  at  Niblo's 
Garden,  in  August,  1841,  kd  Mr.  Belmont  to 
seek  redress  upon  the  field  of  honor,  in  ac.ord- 
ance  with  the  rules  of  the  code.  Mr.  Hayward 
was  not  injured,  but  Mr.  Belmont  received  a 
bullet  wound  in  the  thigh  which  gave  him  serious 
trouble  lor  a  long  time. 

Mr.  Belmont  has  the  strong  face  and  character- 
istics of  a  thorough  business  man,  and,  though 
he  has  a  quick,  impulsive  temper,  yet,  in  con- 
versation, he  IS  mild  and  courteous  to  a  high  de- 
gree. He  has  a  decided  aversion  to  notoriety,  is 
modest  and  unassuming,  and  his  cheeks  flush 
as  refidily  as  a  girl's  at  words  of  commendation. 

He  claims  that  bis  life  has  been  that  of  a  plain 
business  man.  Success  has  produced  an  effect 
ia  him,  too  seldom  found  among  prominent  in- 
dividuals, that  of  drawing  him  nearer  to  his 
fellow  men,  rather  than  exalting  him  to  a  super- 
cilious atmosphere  above  them. 


CH.^UNCEY   M.    DEPEW. 

Chauncey  M.  Depew  was  born  in  Feekskill, 
New  York  State,  in  the  year  1835.    He  is  of  an 


study  soon  after  ho  had  graduated.  His  father, 
who  was  a  staunch  Democrat,  although  proud  of 
his  promise  and  attainments,  found  to  his  morti- 
llcation  that  young  Chauncey  had  studied  a 
branch  of  social  science,  or  rather  adopted  views 
which,  although  not  necessarily  portaimnB  to  the 
curriculum  of  liis  Alma  Mater,  disturbed  some 
of  the  traditions  of  his  more  immediate  ances- 
tors—in a  word,  he  had  become  a  Kepublican. 


RTJSSKIX,  SAGE. 

old  Hngnenot  family  of  not«,  which  emigrated 
to  this  country  during  the  religious  persecutions 
in  France,  and  settled  on  the  banks  of  the  Hud- 
son while  the  colony  was  under  the  dominion  of 
the  Dutch.  From  his  childhood  he  had  many 
social  advantages  and  incentives  to  the  success 
which  has  for  so  far  crowned  his  career.  He 
was  educated  at  Yale,  and  early  determining  to 
dcTote  himself  to  the  law,  he  entered  upon  its 


peculiarly  his  own.  Here  his  wit,  humor,  and 
eloquence  are  models  of  perfection.  On  one  9C- 
casiun,  being  called  on  iiiiexptctedly  to  make  a 
speech  at  a  St.  George's  dinner,  during  tlie 
course  of  his  observations  he  olijecicd  to  the  un- 
fairness with  which  ho  was  treated  in  not  having 
been  given  time  to  prop;iio  an  addrcHS,  when 
the  chairman  and  other  BpoaUcrs  had  studied 
tlioir  speeches  for  throe  woohs,  and  liad  thoni  then 
and  there  written  in  their  pocket'*.  Tlie  chair- 
man, who  was  not  aware  of  the  inveterate 
humorist's  love  of  a  joke,  took  the  matter  seri- 
ously, and  starting  to  his  foot  <xclairned,  "  Ton 
my  honor,  gentleineii,  so  far  as  1  am  concerned, 
tlicre  is  not  a  word  of  truth  in  that  statement." 
At  a  St.  Andrew's  festival  on  another  occasion, 
lie  observed  that  wlionover  he  came  among 
Scotchmen  he  heard  them  laughing  at  jokes  he 
had  listened  to  a  year  before  at  other  dinners. 
Upon  which  a  petulant  son  of  St.  Andrew  said, 
when  he  resumed  his  seat,  "  A,  weel,  Maisther 
Depew,  I  dinua  seeonything  vorra  funny  in  your 
observations  about  the  auld  jokes  o'  last  year." 
•'Ofcoursel  of  course!  my  fi  lend,"  replied  the 
incorrigible  Chauncey,  "  that's  what  I  have  been 
endeavoring  to  get  at.  The  time  has  not  come 
lor  you  yet.  Wait  till  the  next  anniversary,  and 
you  will  see  the  fun  of  it  as  clear  as  day." 


AUGUST  BEI.MO^T. 

"  WhatI  "  said  the  old  gentleman,  on  being  com- 
plimented on  the  brilliancy  of  the  earliest  politi- 
cal speech  of  his  son—"  what!  call  that  Republi- 
can stuff  brilliant  ?  I  sent  him  to  college  a  sen- 
sible fellow,  but  he  has  come  back  a  fool  " — a 
conclusion  which  has  since  been  regarded  as 
somewhat  precipitate  and  premature. 

Mr.  Depew  was  called  to  the  bar  in  1858,  and 
devoted  himself  most  assiduously  and  success- 
fully to  his  profession.  That  he  did  not  aban- 
don politics,  however,  is  evident  from  the  fact 
that  in  1861  he  -was  elected  to  the  Assembly  of 
liis  native  State,  and  was  re-elected  in  1862.  Al- 
though the  youngest  member  of  the  House  of 
1863,  he  was  brought  forward  by  his  party  as 
candidate  for  Speaker,  and  on  the  election  of 
Callicot  became  Chairman  of  Ways  and  Means, 
which  elevated  him  to  the  leadership  of  the 
House.  In  the  same  year  he  was  elected  Secre- 
tary of  State  by  over"  thirty  thousand  majority, 
and  served  one  year  under  Governor  Seymour's 
administration,  "and  one  year  under  Governor 
Feuton's.  Being  at  the  period  but  about  twenty- 
seven  years  of  age,  his  party,  as  alleged  with  a 
view  to  concealing  his  youth,  proposed  that  he 
should  wear  a  long  coat  and  a  liigli  shirt  collar; 
but  he  demurred,  as  we  understand,  setting 
forth  as  a  reason  that  he  was  installed  as  Secre- 
tary of  State  and  not  as  Deacon  of  the  House. 

In  1866  Mr.  Depew  was  appointed  United  States 
Minister  to  Japan  by  Mr.  Seward,  but  held  the 
post  for  one  month  only,  as,  on  second  consid- 
eration, he  found  it  would  interfere  too  seriously 
with  his  professional  career.  In  1872  he  united 
himself  with  the  Horace  Greeley  party,  and  ac- 
cepted the  nomination  as  Lieutenant  Governor 
with  Francis  Kernan,  but  failed  to  achieve  suc- 
cess. He  did  not,  however,  lose  his  position  in 
the  Republican  party,  for  in  1874  he  was  elected 
by  a  Republican  Legislature  Regent  of  the  Uni- 
versity, which  position  he  holds  for  life. 

In  1867  he  was  appointed  attorney  of  a  division 
of  the  New  York  Central  Railroad,  "and  was  sub- 
sequently made  general  counsel  of  the  law  de- 
Eartment  of  that  corporation.  In  this  position 
e  gained  the  entire  confidence  of  the  elder  Van- 
derbilt,  and  was  fortunate  in  securing  that  of  the 
successor  of  the  famous  millionaire  also.  To  ac- 
complish a  feat  so  difficult  required  no  ordinary 
judgment,  experience,  and  tact;  and  the  fact  of 
his  success  in  tliis  relation  alone  would  be  suffi- 
cient to  establish  his  claims  as  a  gentleman  of  the 
most  consummate  tact  and  talent. 

Although  an  admirable  speaker  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, it  is  in  an  after-dinner  speech  that  he 
sbiaes  with  a  brilUaacy  at  once  fascinating  and 


WHITELAW    BEID. 

Journalists  by  the  name  of  Reid,  spelled  in 
one  of  Its  g'iveral  practicable  ways,  are  nnmcr- 
oiis  on  both  sides  the  North  Atlantic.  They  are 
all  of  them  Scotchmen  or  of  Scotch  descent.  The 
most  fortunate,  if  not  the  most  brilliant,  of  his 
contemporary  scribbling  namesakes  is  Whitelaw 
Reid,  who  edits  the  paper  "  founded  by  Horace 
Greelov,"  and  is  one  of  its  proprietoi-H.  He  was 
born  at  Xenia,  Ohio,  in  Octolier,  1837.  His  par- 
ents gave  him  a  good  education.  At  fifteen  he 
entered  the  Miami  University,  at  O.xford,  Butler 
County,  Ohio,  where  ho  was  graduated  in  185C. 
He  began  the  active  duties  of  life  as  principal  of 
the  graded  schools  in  South  Charleston,  Clark 
County,  in  tbe  same  State,  but  did  not  continue 
in  this  occupation  long.  In  1857  he  bought  the 
Xenia  News,  and  did  such  good  work  on  that 
journal  as  to  give  it  a  notoriety  wide  as  the  State. 
This  led  to  his  engagement  "by  the  Times  and 
Gazette  of  Cincinnati  and  the  Herald  of  Cleve- 
land, as  their  Columbus  correspondent.  TSie 
war  gave  him  the  opportunity  of  ^tinguisUng 
himself  as  a  correspondent  at  the  Mt  of  hostili- 
ties. He  served  the  Cincinnati  Gazette  m  this 
capacity,  and  in  1862  became  a  stockholder  of 
tliat  journal,  the  publication  of  which  he  subse- 
quently assisted  in  the  capacity  of  associate  edi- 
tor. His  connection  with  the  New  York  Tiibune 
began  with  his  being  the  editor  in  charge  of  its 
Washington  bureau.  He  ventured  upon  the 
publication  of  a  volume  in  the  year  1865.  It  was 
entitled  "  After  the  War— A  Southern  Tour,"  and 


eH.ir.scEY  >l.  DErE". 

recorded  observations  made  in  company  with 
Chief-Justice  Chase  on  an  extensive  range  of 
travel.  Reid  published  another  book  in  1868, 
"  Ohio  m  the  War,"  a  work  of  considerable  length 
and  value.  He  became  permanently  an  editor 
on  the  staff  of  the  T)-ibune  in  1870,  and  when 
Horace  Greeley  was  a  candidate  for  the  presi- 
dencv,  assumed  the  position  of  managing  editor. 
Possiblv  his  abilitv  as  an  editor  is  not  equdi  t* 


So 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE  CITY. 


bi8  superiority  as  an  elegant  and  forceful  writer. 
Mr.  Beid's  position  as  a  leader  in  politics  has 
been  strengtuened  recently  by  the  consideration 
sure  to  attend  a  man  who,  after  being  a  bachelor 
many  years,  succeeds  in  marrying  a  beauty 
worth  a  million  of  dollars. 


J.UaES    OOBDOX   BKNSETT. 

The  second  bearer  of  this  name  became  pro- 
prietor of  the  New  York  Herald  upon  the  death 


WHlTEIiAW  B£ID. 

of  his  father,  Jane  1,  1872.  America's  most  en- 
terprising newspaper  was  then  about  thirtv-seven 
years  old,  as  now  the  first  in  value  ani  costly 
uewainess  of  Cis-Atlantic  journals.  Young  Ben- 
nett was  then  only  twenty-ftve  years  of  age.  In- 
heriting the  enterprise  as  well  as  the  magnificent 
newspaper  jAopcrty  built  up  by  his  father,  un- 
der his  manJlJiBment  its  triumphs  have  exceeded 
those  of  its  earlier  history.  People  who  dislike 
the  views  of  the  IleraM  and  find,  as  they  beheve, 
greater  scholarship  and  literary  abihty  in  some 
other  papers,  foel  the  comfortable  assurance, 
when  tney  open  5[r.  Bennett's  sheet,  that  they 
possess  the  news  of  the  day,  with  nothing  of  im- 
portance omitted  iu  all  its  deparmu-ntH.  Re- 
markable iuHtances  of  unrivaled  enterprise  in 
the  managcmeut  of  the  Iferald  are  easily  re- 
called. In  1866  Mr.  Bennett  paid  seven  thousand 
dollars  in  gold  tor  the  transmission  of  King  Wil- 
helm's  speech  after  the  battle  of  Sa<1owa.  When 
our  English  cousins  invactod  Abyssinia,  in  1HG8, 
the  Ilera'.d's  dispatches  from  the  seat  of  Lord 
Napier's  military  operations  were  mentioned 
witii  appreciation  by  the  London  Times.  In  1871 
Mr.  Bennett  sent  "an  expedition  to  Africa  in 
search  ot  Sir  Samuel  Baker,  then  exploring  the 
sources  of  the  Nili!.  A  year  after  came  the  news 
that  Stanley,  a  correspondent  of  the  Herald,  had 
found  Livingstone.  The  recent  Bennett  expedi- 
tion to  the  Arctic  regions  needs  no  mention. 
Calcalatious  as  to  the  value  of  the  llcrnid  place 
it  among  the  millions.  Its  proprietor  spends  the 
greater  portion  of  his  time  in  Europe,  but  is  un- 
(hfrstoou  to  be  in  daily  communication  with  his 
paper,  by  means  ot  the  Atlantic  cable.  His  in- 
tention, in  association  with  other  enterprising 
newspaper  men,  to  pro\-ide  a  cable  for  the  trans- 
mission of  news  and  other  matter,  independent 
of  the  alleged  annovances  which  accompany  the 
use  of  those  in  employment  at  the  present  time, 
is  regarded  with  favor. 


PHILIP  J.  A.  HXBPER. 

The  firm  of  Harper  &  Brothers,  the  famous 
publishers  of  books  and  periodicals,  as  at  pres- 
ent constituted  consists  of  the  following  gentle- 
men: Philip  J.  A.  Harper  and  John  W.  Harper; 
who  reside  in  Queens  Couutv,  New  York;  Joseph 
Abner  Harper,  of  Orange  County,  New  York, 
and  Fletcher  Harper,  Joseph  W".  Harper,  Jr., 
and  Joseph  Henry  Harper,  of  New  York  City. 
These  gentlemen  are  sons  of  the  original  mem- 
bers of  the  firm.  Others  of  the  family  are  em- 
ployed iu  the  house.  As  the  Harpers  are  a  mar- 
rying and  prolific  race,  there  seems  to  be  no  pos- 
sibility of  the  book-publishing  business  being 
deprived  of  tbek  repreaeut&tiOB  tor  gcuoratiouit. 


From  1825  to  1869  the  firm  consisted  of  four 
brothers:  James  Harper,  born  in  1795;  John, 
born  in  1Y97;  Joseph  Wesley,  commonly  called 
Wesley,  born  in  1801;  and  Fletcher,  born  in  1806. 
James  died  March  17,  1869,  from  injuries  re- 
ceived from  being  thrown  from  his  carriage; 
Weslev  died  February  14,  1870;  John,  April  22, 
1875;  and  Fletcher,  May  29,  1877.  The  Harper 
business  originated  with  the  two  elder  brothers, 
in  the  year  1817,  under  the  firm  name  of  J.  &  J. 
Harper.  In  1833,  the  other  brothers,  who  had 
been  in  the  employment  of  their  seniors,  were 
admitted  to  partnership,  and  the  name  was 
changed  to  what  it  is  at  present.  By  1840  the 
Harper  printing,  binding  and  pubUshing  busi- 
ness had  grown  to  such  size  that  it  occupied  sev- 
eral buildings  on  both  aides  of  Cliff  Street,  New 
York,  but  these  were  soon  found  to  be  too  small, 
and  in  1850  a  fine  building  was  erected  on  Frank- 
lin Square,  which  was  destroyed  shortly  after  its 
occupatiou.  The  present  Harper  Building  rose 
from  its  ashes.  It  is  one  of  the  most  complete 
establishments  in  the  world,  and  covers  anout 
half  an  acre.  The  structure  is  fire-proof,  strong, 
well-lighted  and  ventilated  and  handsouie.  It 
consists  ol  two  parts  connected  by  iron  bridges, 
and  inclosing  a  court-yard.  The  FrankUn  Square 

Eortion  is  five  stories  above  ground,  and  that 
■onting  on  Cliff  Street,  six.  In  the  Harper  es- 
tablishment is  included  the  store,  the  editors' 
rooms,  artists  and  engravers'  rooniB,  composing 
and  electrotyping  departments,  rooms  for  print- 
ing, drying  and  pressing,  folding,  sewing  and 
covering,  and  binding.  Besides  these  there  are 
facilities  for  producing  everv  kind  of  pictures 
used  m  their  books  and  periodicals.  Visitors  are 
allowed  to  inspect  the  whole  of  the  building  ex- 
cepting that  i)ortion  appropriated  to  the  use  of 
the  artiste  and  engravers. 


PETEB   COOPEK. 

No  man  was  more  honored  and  loved  than  the 
venerable  Peter  Cooper,  whose  death  is  mourned 
as  a  public  loss.  Mr.  Cooper  was  bora  in  New 
York  City,  February  12th,  1791.  His  father 
served  as  a  lieutenant  in  the  Revolution,  alter 
which  he  established  a  liat  factory,  where  voung 
Peter  worked.  In  1808  he  was  apprenticed  to  a 
coachmaker,  who  esteemed  him  so  highly  that 
he  offered  to  start  him  iu  business,  which  was 
declined.  Young  Peter  was  able  to  attend 
school  but  half  of  each  day  for  a  single  year. 
From  1812  to  1815,  he  manufactured  a  patent 
machine  lor  shearing  wool,  which  was  in  great 
demand,  but  lost  its  value  on  the  conclusion  of 
peace.  He  successively  engaged  in  the  manufac- 
ture of  cabinet  ware,  the  grocery  business  and 
in  the  manufacture  of  glue  and  isinglass,  which 


JAHE8  OOBDON  BENHETT. 

last  he  continued  for  more  than  forty  years. 
The  success  which  everywhere  crowned  his 
efforts  he  attributed  to  his  never  incurring  a  debt 
and  so  never  having  interest  to  pay.  His  policy 
was  never  to  owe  any  man  anything  except  good 
will.  He  built  iron  works  near  Baltimore  in 
1830,  and  turned  out  the  first  locomotive  engine 
in  America.  Selling  this  soon  after,  he  erected 
a  rolling  and  wire  mill,  in  which  anthracite  coal 
was  first  buccessfuUy  applied  to  puddling  iron. 


In  1845,  he  erected  at  Trenton,  New  Jersey,  the 
largest  mills  then  in  the  United  States  for  the 
manufacture  of  railroad  iron.  Here,  he  was  the 
first  to  roll  iron  beams  for  building  purposes.  He 
invested  a  large  capital  in  extending  the  electric 
telegraph,  and  advocated  the  construction  of  the 
Croton  Aqueduct,  New  York.  The  Erie  Canal 
project  received  his  hearty  support,  and  he  in- 
vented an  endless  chain  operated  by  water, 
which  in  trial  propelled  a  boat  two  "miles  in 
eleven  minutes. 


PHILIP  J.  A.   HABPHB. 

But  his  chief  title  to  fame  rests  upon  his  efforts 
in  behalf  of  popular  education.  He  was  Vice- 
President  of  the  old  PubUc  School  Society,  whei- 
it  was  merged  iu  the  Board  of  Education.  To 
give  the  masses  the  benefits  of  the  School  ot 
Technology  he  established  in  New  York,  in  1858^ 
the  Cooper  Union  for  the  Advancement  e' 
Science  and  Art.  The  building  covers  the  block 
between  Seventh  and  Eighth  Streets  and  Third 
and  Four'.h  Avenues,  and  cost  $2,000,000.  To 
this  he  added  an  endowment  of  $150,000  in  cash, 
and  other  gifts. 

Free  instruction  is  given  in  all  branches  of 
drawing,  painting,  telegraphy,  photography, 
wood-engraving,  besides  mathematics,  practical 
chemistry,  and  engineering;  and  free  lectures 
are  given  in  natural  ])hilosophy  and  the  elements 
of  chemistry.  Over  $50,000  are  annually  ex- 
pended in  maintauiing  this  institution,  the  library 
continuing  over  10,000  volumes,  and  some  SOO 
papers  and  periodicals  being  kept  in  the  read- 
ing room. 

Mr.  Cooper  survived  all  the  companions  of  his 
vouth.  At  his  birth  New  York  had  but  '27,000  in- 
habitants. He  lived  under  every  administration, 
and  remembered  the  services  held  iu  New  York 
on  Washington's  death.  He  was  full  of  reminis- 
cences of  the  past  history  of  New  York  and  of  the 
country.  Ho  recalled  the  stockade  built  to  keep 
out  the  Indians,  and  the  rail  fence  around  the 
negro  burjnng  ground,  the  eubsequent  site  of 
Stewart's  wholesale  store.  He  related  these  in- 
cidents with  peculiar  pride.  His  modesty  was 
equalled  only  by  his  generosity  and  public  spiiit. 
The  only  monument  he  desired  was  his  con- 
sciousness of  having  done  good  to  his  fellowmen. 
He  urged  the  establiphment  of  great  lending  li- 
braries with  reading  and  lecture  rooms.  When 
his  ninety-second  birthday  was  observed,  be  pre- 
sented a'  copy  of  his  "  Ideas  for  a  Science  ol 
Government     to  each  of  his  visitors. 

His  career  shows  him  to  have  been  one  of  the 
greatest  of  Americans  and  the  noblest  of  men. 
He  learned  three  trades  before  he  was  twenty- 
one;  his  genius  enabled  him  to  rank  high  as  an 
inventor;  he  was  pre-eminently  a  man  of  affairs, 
his  knowledge  of  men  and  business  securmg  suc- 
cess in  every  venture;  and  most  important  of  all, 
he  was  a  broad  and  practical  philanthropist,  who 
labored  constantly  for  the  elevation  and  ad- 
vancement of  the  masses  of  the  people. 

His  son  Edward  Cooper,  was  at  one  time 
Mavor  of  New  York,  and  a  daughter  is  the  wife 
of  the  Hon.  Abram  S.  Hewitt. 


AWtAM    8.  HEWITT. 

Hon.  Abram  S.  Hcivitt,  a  prominent  manufac- 
turer and  pohtician,  was  born  at  Haverstraw,  N. 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


57 


Y.,  July  31,  1822.  He  obtaiued  Lis  early  educa- 
tion in  the  public  schooU  of  New  York  City, 
where  he  gained  a  prize  HcholarHlup  iu  Columbia 
TJoUego,  trom  which  institution  he  graduated  iu 
1842.  Ho  was  appointed  Prolesaor  of  llathe- 
matics  the  next  year,  and,  having  road  law,  ho 
was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1845.  But,  as  the 
failure  of  hia  eyesight  precluded  tho  practice  of 
his  profesBion  lie  soon  engaged  in  the  iron  busi- 
ness with  Peter  Cooper,  under  tho  tirm  name  of 
Cooper  &  Hewitt.  In  1867,  ho  wuh  appointed  a 
member  of  tho  U.  S.  Scientilic  ComiuiHaioii  to 
visit  the  Paris  Exposition,  and  wrote  tho  report 
on  iron  and  stoel.  Ho  has  managed  tho  Cooper 
Union,  founded  by  his  father-in-law,  I'cter  Coop- 
er, since  its  establishment  iu  1854. 

Mr.  Hewitt  has  long  been  conspicuous  in  poli- 
tics, taking  an  active  part  in  the  Presidential 
campaigns  of  1876  and  1880.  Ho  held  close  po- 
litical relations  with  Mr.  Tilden,  and  his  connec- 
tion witii  the  Morey  letter  is  still  fresh  iu  the 
public  mind.  Mr.  Hewitt  was  elected  to  Congress 
lu  1874  and  1870,  and  again  in  1880  and  1882, 
representing  the  Tenth  District  of  New  York. 


HON.  8.  s.  cox. 
"  Sunset "  Cox,  as  he  is  popularly  called,  or 
Samuel  SolliTan  Cox,  as  he  was  baptized,  is  a 
grandson  of  James  Cox,  who  was  a  Congress- 
man before  him,  aa  well  aa  a  brigadier-genoral 
of  New  Jersey  militia,  and  a  Democratic  poli- 
tician of  note.  Samuel's  father  loft  the  old 
homestead  at  Monmouth  some  tiino  after  James 
Cox's  death  and  emigrated  to  Ohio,  settling  at 
Zanesville,  where  Samuel  S.  was  born  on  the 
30th  of  September,  1824.  The  boy,  after  passing 
through  the  common  school  curriculum  of  those 
days,  was  sent  to  tho  Ohio  University,  where, 
however,  he  did  not  finish  his  collegiate  career, 
">  but  went  to  Brown  University,  at  Providence, 
R.  I.,  where  ho  graduated  in  the  class  of  1846. 
He  atudied  law,  went  back  to  Ohio,  and  began  to 
practice  iu  the  courts.  He  did  not,  however, 
take  kindly  to  tho  profoaaiou,  aud  after  a  trip  iu 
Europe,  tho  story  of  which  he  told  in  "  A  Buck- 
eye Abroad,"  he,  in  1853,  became  the  editor  of 
the  Ohio  Statesman,  published  at  Columbus.  Iu 
1855  he  was  appointed  Secretary  ol  Legation  to 
Peru  by  tho  Pierce  Admimatration,  and  on  his 
return  ho  cultivated  politics,  aud  was  elected 
from  tho  CoUimbua  (0.)  Diatrict  to  the  35th  Con- 
gress, which  was  in  session  during  the  moment- 
ous period  just  preceding  the  inauguration  of 
Abraham  Lincoln  as  President.    He  stood  nobly 


by  the  Union,  and  was  rewarded  by  being  re- 
turned successively  to  the  37th  anil  38th  Con- 
gresses. In  1864  he  was  defeated,  however,  by 
the  Republican  candidate,  and  he  removed  to 
New  York  City  iu  the  following  spring.  Here  he 
wrote  hia  "  Eight  Years  in  Congress,"  an  inter- 
esting Tolnme  of  personal  observations  and 
experiences.  The  interval  between  his  removal 
irom  Ohio  to  New  York  and  in  hia  elec- 
tion from  a  New  York  diatrict,  Mr.  Cox 
passed  either  in  travels  abroad  or  in  writing 
amusing  books  about  these  travels.    In  1868  he 


first  appeared  as  a  caudidato  in  Niw  York  City, 
and  was  elected  by  a  largo  majority  over  Starr, 
his  RepubUcan  opponent,  which  was  greatly  aug- 
mented two  years  after  when  Horace  Greeley  ran 
againat  him.  In  1872,  however,  when  he  ran  for 
Congresaman-at-Large  againat  Lyman  Tremaiue, 
ho  was  defeated.  Ho  was,  however,  a  few 
montha  after,  clioaoii  to  fill  the  seat  made  vacant 
by  the  death  of  Janms  Brooks,  and  since  then  he 
liaa  been  constantly  in  Congreas,  doing  good 
aervico,  not  only  by  hia  wit  and  vivacity  in  de- 
bate, but  also  by  hie  adroitness  on  committees. 


A.  3.    HEWITT. 

His  work  on  the  latter  has  never  been  fully  ap- 
preciated by  the  public  generally.  His  freedom 
from  partisan  bitterness,  together  with  his  win- 
ning social  qualities,  have  made  him  aa  great  a 
favorite  among  Republicans  as  his  mastery  of 
parliamentary  law  and  constant  readiness  to  en- 
ter into  the  thick  of  a  party  engagement  has  made 
him  a  necessity  to  the  Democrats.  He  haa  now 
served  in  the  House  almost  twenty  years  longer 
than  any  other  member  in  it. 


OEOBOE  WILLIAM   CURTIS. 

At  tho  head  and  front  of  those  members  of  the 
Republican  party  who  deprecate  what  they  are 
pleased  to  consider  the  tyranny  of  the  party  ma- 
chine, and  as  the  leading  political  writer  on 
Harper's  Weekly,  in  which  widely  circulated 
journal  hia  viowa  are  regularly  presented, 
George  William  Curtis  occupiea  a" leading  poai- 
tion  among  men  of  the  hour. 

Mr.  Curtis  is  of  MaaaachuaettB  descent,  but 
was  bom  in  Providence,  Rhode  Island,  about 
fifty-eight  years  ago.  It  was  hia  father'a  inten- 
tion that  be  should  be  a  dry  goods  merchant, 
and  at  the  age  of  fifteen  he  was  placed  in  the 
counting-room  of  an  importer  doing  business  in 
New  York  City.  Two  years  afterward  he  had  re- 
linquished trading  pursuits  and  had  become  a 
member  of  the  community  at  Brook  Farm.  A 
worshiper  of  Emerson,  lie  next  turned  up  at 
I  'oncord,  and  began  the  practice  of  agnculture. 
In  another  two  years  he  had  found  hia  way  to 
Kurope,  Egypt,  a"nd  Syria.  When  he  returned 
to  America"  in  1850,  ho  published  hia  "  Nile 
Motes  of  a  Howadii."  As  a  member  of  the  stafi' 
"f  tho  New  York  Iribtme,  he  wrote  that  series  of 
watering-place  letters  whicli  he  afterward  pub- 
hshed  in  a  book  entitled  "  Lotus  Eating."  His 
"  Howadji  in  Syria  "'  was  hia  next  literary  ven- 
ture, and  proved  a  flattering  auccees.  Hia  well- 
known  "  Potiphar  Papers  "  were  first  publiahed 
in  Putnam's  Magazine,  of  which  he  was  for  a 
time  one  of  the  editors.  The  failure  of  Putnam 
&  Co.,  a  house  in  which  he  was  financially  inter- 
ested, involved  him  in  obligations  which  he  faith- 
fully discharged  by  tho  work  of  ten  years. 
"Trumps,"  a  novel^  first  saw  the  light  in //ar- 
per's  Weekly.  The  "  Easy  Chair  "  of  the  Monthly 
is  Mr.  Curtis's.  With,  it  is  said  $25,000  a  year, 
Mr.  Curtia  has  a  refined  and  elegant  homo  on 
Staten  Island.  He  is  eminently  successful  as  a 
public  speaker,  and  frequently  appears  on  the 
lecture  platform. 


EDWIN   BOOTH. 

Edwin  Booth,  the  celebrated  tragedian,  is  fifty 
years  of  age,  and  haa  been  on  the  stage  upwards 
of  thirtv  years.  Like  Warren,  he  is  tlio  aon  of  a 
great  llingliBh  actor,  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  wlio 
camo  to  this  country  in  1821.  Edwin  was  born  in 
the  homestead  of  Inn  lather's  farm  near  Balti- 
more, tho  seventh  of  ten  children,  in  November, 
1833.  He  was  associated  witli  hia  father  in  tlii' 
vicissitudes  of  his  career  from  being  a  nitre 
child.  His  first  appearance  was  made  Septem- 
ber 10,  1849,  at  tho  Boston  Museum,  as  Tressil  in 
Cibbor'a  version  of  "  Richard  III."  Ho  visited 
California  in  1852  with  his  father,  who  left  him 
there,  and  during  tho  next  four  years  lie  roughed 
It  in  that  new  country,  Australia  and  the  Sand- 
wich Inlands.  The  elder  Booth  died  soon  after 
he  returned  East  from  California.  Edwin  came 
home  ID  the  fall  of  1856,  and  began  a  brilliant 
engagement  in  Baltimore.  From  thence  he 
made  a  tour  of  tho  South,  and  became  well- 
known  in  tho  principal  cities  of  tho  United 
Statea  by  tho  year  1860,  when  he  sailed  for  Eng- 
land. Before  his  return  in  1862  he  had  played 
in  London,  Liverpool  and  Manchester.  From 
September  21,  1863,  to  March  23,  1867,  when  it 
was  burned  down,  no  managed  the  Winter  Gar- 
den Theatre,  New  York  City,  where  he  produced 
splendid  revivals  of  Btandard  plays.  Booth's 
Theatre  was  opened  February  3,  1869.  In  tho 
spring  of  1874  it  passed  Into  other  hands,  after 
Booth  had  spent  a  million  dollars  on  it.  His 
tour  in  the  South,  in  1876,  was  a  succession  of 
triumphs.  He  is  received  with  enthusiasm 
everywhere  in  the  United  States,  for  example, 
thirty-six  thousand  dollars  were  taken  dunng  an 
eight  weeks'  engagement  at  San  Francisco.  In 
1880  he  made  nis  second  professional  visit  to 
England,  where  his  acting  made  a  great  impres- 
sion. Mr.  Booth's  first  wife  died  young,  his 
brother  was  the  assaaain  of  Abraham  Lincoln, 
and  Booth'a  Theatre  awallowed  up  the  accumu- 
lation of  his  early  manhood.  He  works  witli 
conscientious  diligence  against  all^bstacles,  and ' 
is  the  most  popular  actor  in  the  country.  His 
Hamlet  and  lago  are  perhaps  his  best  persona- 
tions of  a  number  comprising  the  moat  important 
and  difficult  parts  assumed  by  the  actor. 

LE3TEB  WALIACK. 

John  Lester  Wallack  was  bom  in  New  Y'ork 
City,  in  the  year  1819.  His  father  was  an  Eng- 
lishman named  James  William  Wallack.  He  be- 
gan his  acquaintance  with  the  stage  while  very 


young,  and  soon  became  a  popular  actor,  the 
more  rapidly  as  he  was  favored  with  a  most  at- 
tractive appearance.  While  on  a  visit  to  Eng- 
land he  married  a  daughter  of  Millais,  the 
Eainter.  At  the  outbreak  of  the  Crimean  war, 
e  purchased  a  commission  in  the  English  army, 
which  he  sold  after  three  days'  experience  in 
actual  campaigning.  He  then  resumed  his  pro- 
fession as  an  actor,  in  which  he  displayed  re- 
markable ability  in  romantic  parts.  Upon  the 
decease  of  his  father,  who  was  a  manager  in 
New  Y'ork,  he  assumed  the  management  of  Wal- 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


lack's  Theatre,  at  the  corner  of  Thirteenth  Street 
and  Broadway.  After  nearly  twenty  years  there 
he  removed  up-town,  and  is  now  the  fortunate 
proprietor  of  the  beautiful  house  at  the  corner  of 
Thirtieth  Street  and  Broadway,  in  which,  by  an 
arrangement  between  Mr.  Walfack  and  a  brother 
manager,  Mr.  Abbey,  Mrs.  Langtry  made  her 
first  appearance  before  the  American  public. 
WallacK  8,  as  his  theatre  is  popularly  known, 
may  be  regarded,  perhaps,  as  the  headquarters 
of  first-class  comedy.  The  company  comprises 
only  Buch  persons  as  rank  among  the  foremost 


GEOUGE  WTLLXAil  CUBT13. 

in  their  profession.  Mr.  Wallack  makes  occa- 
sional appearances  in  his  theatre  and  elsewhere, 
and  always  coiiiiuanda  the  attendance  of  an  ap- 
preciative assembly.  He  is  a  gentleman  of  cul- 
ture and  considerable  wealth,  whose  reputation 
as  a  manager  is  unexcelled  fur  liberality  and  the 
ability  of  the  many  actors  and  actresses  ho  has 
succeeded  in  engaging. 


HOBACE    B.    CLAFI-IN. 

The  statement  is  hardly,  if  at  all,  questiona- 
ble that  Horace  B.  Clafiiu  is  the  head  of  the 
largest  exclusively  wholesale  dry  goods  business 
in  tlie  United  States.  Ho  was  born  at  MiUord, 
Massacbusetts,  in  the  year  1812,  the  son  of  a 
leading  merchant  id  that  place  and  one  of  the 
principal  men  in  the  local  Presbyterian  church. 
The  Cladins  are  descended  from  a  Puritan  ances- 
try who  came  to  the  United  States  at  an  early 
date  after  the  settlement  of  New  England.  Hor- 
ace was  educated  in  the  school  of  his  native 
town  and  early  initiated  iuto  business  at  his 
father's  store,  where  the  stock  of  goods  on  sale 
was  oveu  of  a  more  iniscellaneous  character  than 
is  now  common  in  such  places.  Having  attained 
his  majority  ho  associated  himself  with  Sanuu'l 
Daniels  in  "the  purchase  of  his  father's  business. 
The  partners  had  hardly  began  business  when 
they  decided  to  discontinue  the  sale  of  alcoholic 
liquors,  and  closed  out  their  stock  of  the  same 
by  pouring  it  into  the  street.  Contrary  to  his 
father's  opinion  as  to  what  would  be  the  effect  of 
this  radical  proceeding,  young  Claflin  and  his 
partner  prospered  during  the  two  years  thcv 
wore  together  at  Milford.  After  this  time  they 
removed  to  Worcester  in  the  same  State,  and 
opened  a  business  there,  which  during  the  ten 
years  that  Mr.  Claflin's  interest  was  continued 
in  it,  became  one  of  the  leading  houses  in  New 
England.  Messrs.  Hardin  and  Hunt  were  part- 
ners with  Mr.  Claflin  in  the  latter  part  of  his  time 
at  Worcester  (Mr.  Daniels  had  retired),  and 
when  he  determined  upon  removing  to  New  York, 
bought  his  interest. 

Mr.  Claflin  began  his  career  in  New  York  with 
a  capital  of  thirty  thousand  dollars.  In  July, 
18-13,  he  and  William  H.  Buckley  opened  'a 
wholesale  dry-goods  store  in  Cedar  Street,  where, 
during  the  first  year,  tliev  did  a  business  of  a 
mtarter  of  a  million.  By'  1849  it  bad  grown  to 
tnreo  times  that  magnitude,  and  the  firm  re- 
moved into  larger  quarters  next  year.  Mr. 
BuckJey  retired  in  1851,  and  a  new  partnership 
was  formed,  with  Mr.  Claflin  as  its  head.  In 
1853  a  removal  was  made  to  the  Triuitv  Building 


built  by  the  firm  iu  the  neighborhood  of  Trinity 
Church,  with  the  expectation  that  it  would  prove 
large  enough.  This  proved  a  mistake,  however, 
and  in  1861  the  premises  now  occupied  by  H.  B. 
Claflin  &  Co.  were  opened  by  them.  The  firm, 
by  the  way,  had  been  changed  as  to  its  style  and 
luembership  shortly  before  this  time.  Their 
principal  building  stands  on  a  site  measuring 
three  liundred  and  seventy-five  feet  on  Worth 
Street,  eighty  on  Church  and  the  same  length  on 
West  Broadway.  The  adjacent  lot,  also  occupied 
by  a  building,  is  one  hundred  feet  long  and 
eighty  feet  iu  width.  Both  buildings  are  seven 
stories  in  height,  including  basements  and  sub- 
cellars.  About  a  thousand  persons  are  em- 
ployed in  this  gigantic  establishment,  which  con- 
tains every  faciUty  for  the  display  of  goods  and 
the  transaction  of  business.  Large  salaries  are 
paid  responsible  men,  and  an  ambitious,  capable 
young  fellow  is  sure  of  encouragement  if  so  for- 
tunate as  to  obtain  employment  at  H.  B.  Claflin 
&  Co's.  As  long  ago  as  1866  the  sales  of  the 
house  were  seventy-two  million  dollars  a  year. 
Mr.  Claflin  has  proved  himself  a  master-spirit  in 
commerce.  In  time  of  depression  and  panic  as 
well  as  of  the  greatest  prosperity,  he  has  shown 
himself  to  be  self-possessed  and  full  of  resources. 
His  business  honor  is  as  widely  known  as  his  gi- 
gantic enterprises  reach.  He  is  a  kindly,  genial 
old  man,  never  happier  than  with  his  family  and 
frieuds,  a  gentleman  and  pliilanthropist. 


BOBACE  K.    THUBBEB. 

Horace  K.  Thurber  was  boru  fifty-three  years 
ago  at  Delhi,  Delaware  County,  New  York  State. 
lie  received  a  fair  education,  and  began  busi- 
ness life  as  clerk  in  a  bauk  where,  among  otlier 
things,  be  learned  to  be  a  neat  and  beautiful 
penman.  Wlieu  ago  and  the  condition  of  his 
purse  made  the  experiment  desirable,  he  opened 
a  small  store  at  a  place  on  the  Erie  Railroad 
called  Addison.  This  was  but  a  trifling  occu- 
pation for  a  young  fellow  cherishing  sucu  great 
mercantile  aspirations  as  he.  Accordingly  he 
sold  out  and  went  to  New  York  City,  where  he 
acted  as  a  clerk  for  a  time  with  a  merchant 
named  Henry  Harms.  Charles  Pratt,  of  illum- 
inating oil  notoriety,  was  a  fellow-clerk  with  him 
in  Mr.  Harms's  establishment,  and  the  two  made 
an  arrangement  that  the  one  who  made  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  the  first  should  give  the  other  a 
Mexican  silver  dollar.  Pratt  won  the  wager,  but 
afterwards  received  assistance  in  working  out 
his  colossal  projects  from  his  quondam  associate. 
During  his  clerkship  with  Mr.  Harms,  Mr.  Thur- 
ber became  acquainted  with  a  shrewd  Qermau 


EDWIN  T300m. 

named  Pupke,  from  which  resulted  an  intimacy 
and  the  formation  of  the  3rm  of  PupUe  &  Thur- 
ber, who  did  business  at  the  corner  of  Chambers 
and  Greenwich  Streets.  The  partners  worked 
hard  night  and  day,  and  made  money  after  the 
first  year;  and  that  one  year  is  the  only  one,  by 
the  way,  in  .Mr.  Thnrber's  experience  as  a  busi- 
iioss  man,  in  which  he  has  not  made  money. 
Between  fifteen  and  sixteen  years  ago,  Mr.  Fran- 
cis B.  Thurber,  his  brother,  became  associated 
with  him  in  business.  The  partnership  of  H.  K. 
and  F.  B.  Thurber  &  Co.  coiiBists,  at  the  present 


time,  of  the  brothers  and  ten  junior  partners. 
Their  business  is  the  largest  of  the  kind  in  the 
United  States,  and  one  of  the  largest  m  the  world. 
An  idea  of  its  vastness  may  be  gathered  from  a 
brief  description  of  the  premises  occupied. 

Within  massive  brick  walls  of  five  stories  high, 
above  cellar  and  eub-cellars,  are  housed  the 
delicacies  of  every  clime.  This  building  adjoins 
the  bonded  warehouse.  The  coffee  warehouse 
adjoins  it  in  turn.  Here  from  fifteen  to  twenty 
thousand  pounds  of  coffee  are  roasted  per  day 
and  packed  for  abipment.    Passing  tbroagh  a 


LESTER    WALLACE. 

narrow  passage,  a  structure  seven  stories  high 
and  covering  a  plot  measuring  seventy-five  feet 
by  a  hundred  feet  is  reached.  This  contains  tin 
spice  factory,  and,  among  other  things,  tl.c 
printing  establishment,  with  something  like  sev- 
enty-five thousand  dollars'  worth  of  labels  ready 
for  use.  The  fruit  preserving  and  fariuactouK 
food  departments  are  aluo  in  this  building,  giving 
employment  to  hundreds  of  women.  A  high  wall 
separates  the  last  building   described  into  two 

garts,  so  that  those  already  mentioned  make  four 
uildings  distinct  and  separate  from  the  main 
warehouse,  which  is  only  a  few  blocks  distant, 
and  the  headquarters  of  the  firm  situated  in  an- 
other part  of  the  city.  This  is  built  of  brick,  and 
covers  a  block.  It  uas  six  stories  with  cellar  and 
sub-cellar.  Merchants  from  all  parts  of  the 
United  States  buy  here,  as  busv  a  place  as  there 
is  to  be  seen  in  New  York.  Besides  these,  the 
Thurbers  have  their  own  houses  in  London  and 
Bordeaux,  and  are  represented  in  every  market 
in  the  world  either  buying  for  the  house  or  sell- 
ing the  American  food  products  prepared  by 
them.  At  Moorestown,  New  Jersey,  is  their 
canned  goods  factory,  which  covers  four  acres  of 
ground,  where  four  uundred  people  are  em- 
ployed and  aided  in  tlieir  work  with  the  newest 
and  best  mechanical  appliances.  In  the  summer 
about  a  million  and  a  quarter  cans  of  tomatoes 
are  packed,  and  large  quantities  of  com,  peachca 
peas,  beans,  asparagus,  pineapples,  pears  ant 
plums.  Meats,  poultry,  mincemeat,  plum-pud 
ding,  apples,  etc.,  are  packed  later  in  tlie  season 
The  warehouse  adjoins  the  railroad.  It  has  ca 
pacity  for  three  million,  six  hundred  thousano 
cans.' 


THE  LATE  A.  T.  STEWABT. 

In  the  year  1819,  a  European  vessel  anchored 
in  the  harbor  of  New  York,  after  a  long  and 
weary  voyage  from  the  old  world.  She  brought 
many  passengers  to  the  young  metropolis,  most 
of  whom  came  with  the  intention  of  seeking  their 
fortunes  in  this  land  of  promise. 

Among  them  was  a  young  Irishman,  who  had 
left  his  humble  home  in  his  native  county  of  Ty- 
rone, m  Ireland,  to  seek  in  .\merica  the  means 
of  bettering  his  cor.dition.  He  was  m  his  twenty- 
fourth  year,  having  been  born  in  1795,  and  was 
posecssf-d  of  a  good  education,  backed  by  sound 
liealth  and  an  indomitable  deterininaiion  to  suc- 
cee 
Ian 


d.    He  was  poor,   however,   and    when    ho 

ded  iu  New  York  he  was  without  friends. 

He  had  been  educated  with  a  view  to  entering 

the  ministry,  and   his  first  effort  after  reaching 

New  York  wifffto  procure  a  school.    He  was  sue- 


THE   GREAT    EMPIRE   CITY. 


o9 


ceaBful  to  a  certain  extont,  and  for  nearly  throe 
vears  taught  a  amall  unmbor  of  pupila  at  No.  S'J 
Itoso  Street. 

'  School-teaching,  however,  did  not  BUit  him, 
though  ho  managed  to  gave  some  money  from 
the  procoedd  of  hia  lal)or8.  A  relative  in  Kiiroiu) 
dietl  about  tliiH  time  and  left  him  a  small  legacy, 
with  which  ho  determint'd  to  enter  into  buainoaH 
for  himself,  and  m  182'2,  aoou  after  the  terrible 
epidemic  of  yellow  fever  that  year,  ho  eatablished 
himaolf  anaVetaildry  goods  merchant  in  a  frame 
building  on  Broadway,  just  opposite  whore  hia 
former  wholoaalo  house  atanda.  Hia  entire  cash 
capital  was  between  twelve  and  liftcon  hundred 
dollars,  and  tlie  prospect  before  him  waa  not  in- 
viting. Hia  store  waa  small,  being  (mly  twenty- 
two  feet  wide  by  twenty  deep,  and  was  aituated 
next  door  to  the  then  famous  Bonafanli,  who 
kept  the  most  popular  and  boat-known  variety 
store  of  the  day. 

About  this  time  Mr.  Stewart  married  Miaa  Cor- 
nelia Clinch,  an  estimable  ladv  of  New  York,  who 
ia  etill  living,  and  who  proved  a  noble  helpmate 
to  him  m  his  early  atrugglea.  The  young  couple 
lived  in  one  email  room  over  the  store,  and  the 
wife  took  care  of  the  domestic  arrangemoute 
while  the  husband  attended  to  his  businoaa  be- 
low. 

Without  mercantile  experience,  and  posseaaing 
no  advantage  but  his  own  unaided  determination 
to  succeed,  Mr.  Stewart  atarted  boldlv  on  what 
proved  to  bo  the  road  to  fortune.  No  young 
merchant  ever  worked  harder  than  ho.  From 
fourteen  to  eighteen  houra  each  day  were  given 
to  his  bnaiueas.  He  was  hia  own  bookkeeper, 
salesman,  and  porter.  Ho  could  not  afl'ord  to 
employ  any  help.  Credit  waa  hard  to  obtain  in 
those  daya,  and  young  merchants  were  not 
favorites  with  those  who  had  such  favors  to  be- 
stow, and  Mr.  Stewart  was  one  of  the  least 
favored,  inasmuch  as  he  was  almost  a  total 
stranger  to  the  buaincsa  community  in  which  he 
lived.  He  kept  a  small  atock  of  goods  on  hand, 
which  he  purchased  for  cash  chiefly  at  the 
auction  sales.  Ho  was  a  regular  attendant  at 
these  sales,  and  his  purchases  were  invaiiablv 
"aample  lots  "—that  is,  collections  of  smafl 
quantities  of  various  articles  thrown  together  in 
confusiou,  and  sold  in  heaps  for  what  they  would 
bring.  He  had  these  puicuases  conveyed  to  his 
store,  and  after  the  bnaiueas  of  the  day  was  over 
be  and  his  wife  would  take  tlic.><e  "  sample  lots," 
and  by  carefully  assorting  them  bring  order  out 
of  the"  confusion.  Every  article  was  patiently 
gone  over.  Gloves  were  redressed  and  smoothed 
out,  laces  pressed  free  from  the  creases  which 
careless  bidders  had  twisted  into  them,  and  hose 
made  to  look  as  fresh  as  if  they  had  never  been 


HORACE  B.  ChiFLDI. 

handled.  Each  article,  being  good  in  itself,  was 
thus  restored  to  its  original  excellence.  The 
goods  were  then  arranged  in  their  proper 
placea  on  the  shelves  of  the  store,  and  by  be- 
ing offered  at  a  lower  price  than  that  charged 
by  retail  dealers  elsewhere  in  the  city,  met  with 
a  ready  sale.  Even  at  this  low  price  the  profit 
waa  great,  since  they  had  been  purchased  for  a 
mere  trifle.  For  six  years  Mr.  Stewart  con- 
tinued to  conduct  his  IJuainess  in  this  wav,  ac- 
quiring e'e-  day  a  larger  and  more  pro^table 
.trade. 


It  ia  aaid  that  when  he  entered  upon  hia  buai- 
iiess  he  knew  so  little  of  the  details  of  it  that  he 
was  Bumetimes  sorely  ciubarrusaed  bv  occur- 
rences insignificaut  in  theniaelvea.  l/poii  one 
occasion  he  i«  said  to  have  accosted  the  late 
William  Bonchor  (from  whom  he  bought  many 
goods),  as  follows:  "  .'^Ir.  Boocher,  a  lady  came 
into  my  store  to-day  and  asked  me  to  show  hor 
aoiiie  hose.  I  did  not  know  what  the  goods  were, 
and  told  her  1  did  not  keep  the  article.  What 
did  she  want?"  Mr.  Beecner  quietly  held  up 
a   pair   of  stockings  before  Inm,   and  Stewart, 


HORACE  K.    TIIURIIEK. 

bursting  into  a  laugh  at  bis  own  simplicity, 
went  back  to  his  atorc  a  wiser  man. 

While  still  engaged  in  hm  first  struggles  in  his 
little  store,  Mr.  Stewart  found  himself  called 
on  to  make  arrangements  to  pay  a  note  which 
would  soon  become  due.  It  was  for  a  consid- 
erable sum,  and  he  had  neither  the  money  nor 
the  means  of  borrowing  it.  It  was  a  time  when 
the  mercantile  community  of  New  York  regarded 
a  failure  to  pay  a  note  as  a  crime,  and  when 
such  a  failure  was  sure  to  bring  ri\in  to  a  new 
man.  Mr.  Stewart  kpew  this,  and  'felt  that  he 
must  act  with  greater  reaolution  and  daring  than 
he  had  ever  before  exhibited,  if  he  would  save 
himself  from  dishonor.  To  meet  the  crisis  be 
adopted  a  bold  and  skillful  manoeuvre.  He 
marlied  down  every  article  in  his  store  far  below 
the  wholesale  price.  This  done,  he  had  a  num- 
ber of  handbUls  printed,  announcing  that  he 
would  sell  off  his  entire  stock  of  goodj  below 
cost,  within  a  given  time.  He  scattered  those 
bills  broadcast  through  the  city,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  purchasers  began  to  flock  to  his  store 
to  secure  the  great  bargains  which  his  advertise- 
ments offered  thcin.  His  terms  were  "cash," 
and  he  had  little  difficulty  in  selling.  Pur- 
chasers found  that  they  thus  secured  the  best 
goods  in  the  market  at  a  lower  figure  than  they 
had  ever  been  offered  before  in  New  York,  anS 
each  one  was  prompt  to  advise  relatives  and 
friends  to  avail  themselves  of  the  favorable  op- 
portunity. Customers  were  plentiful,  the  little 
Broadway  store  was  throngeci  all  day,  and  long 
before  the  expiration  of  the  period  he  had  fixed 
for  the  duration  of  his  sales  Mr.  Stewart  found 
his  shelves  empty  and  his  treasury  full.  He 
paid  his  note  with  a  part  of  the  money  he  had 
thus  received,  and  with  the  rest  laid  in  a  freah 
stock  of  goods.  He  was  fortunate  in  his  pur- 
chases at  this  time,  for,  as  the  market  waa  ex- 
tremely dull  and  ready  money  scarce,  he,  by 
paving  cash,  bought  his  goods  at  very  low  pncea. 

The  energy,  industry,  patience,  and  business 
tact  displaye'd  by  Mr.  Stewart  these  first  years 
of  his  commercial  life  brought  him  their"  sure 
reward,  and  in  1828,  just  six  years  after  com- 
mencing business,  he  found  bis  little  store  too 
small  and  humble  for  the  large  and  fashionable 
trade  which  had  come  to  him.  Three  new  stores 
had  just  been  erected  on  Broadway,  between 
Chambers  and  Warren  Streets,  and  be  leased 
the  smallest  of  these,  and  moved  into  it.  It 
waa  a  modest  building,  only  three  stories  high 
and  thirty  feet  deep,  but  it  was  a  great  im- 
provement ou  bis  original  place.  He  was  en- 
a.bled  to  fill  it  with  a  larger  and  more  attrac- 
tive stock  of  goods,  and  his  business  was  greatly 
benefited   by  the  change.     Hf  remainer",  in  this 


store  for  four  years,  and  in  1832  removed  In  ti 
two-atory  building,  located  on  Broadway  be- 
tween Murrav  and  Warren  Slreeta.  Soon  ufier 
occupying  it  iie  was  compelled,  by  the  growth  of 
his  busiuesa,  to  add  twenty  feet  to  iho  dciiih  o( 
the  store,  and  to  add  a  third  atory  to  thf  build- 
ing. A  year  or  two  later  a  fourth  story  waa 
added,  and  in  1837  a  fifth  story,  ao  rapidly  did 
he  proaper. 

Ilia  trade  waa  now  with  the  wealthy  and  fash- 
ionable class  of  thn  city,  and  he  had  siiriiuiuiited 
all  hia  early  difliciilties  and  laid  the  foundations 
of  that  splendid  fortune  which  ho  afterward  won. 
The  majority  of  his  cuatomora  wore  ladiea,  and 
ho  now  resolved  upon  an  expedient  for  increas- 
ing their  number.  Ho  had  noticed  that  ladies 
in  "  ahoppiii"  "  were  much  given  to  the  habit  of 
gossiping  and  even  flirting  with  the  clerks,  and  he 
adopted  the  expedient  of  employing  as  hia  aales- 
inen  the  handaomcat  men  ho  could  procure  a 
practice  which  liaa  since  become  conituon.  The 
plan  was  Bucceaaful  from  the  firal.  Women 
came  to  hia  atore  in  greater  nnmbcrathaii  before, 
and  "Stewart's  nice  young  men  "  were  tlio  talk 
of  the  town. 

The  great  crisis  of  1837  found  Mr.  Stewart  a 
prosperous  and  rising  man,  and  that  terrible 
financial  storm  which  wrecked  so  many  of  the 
best  of  the  city  firms  did  not  ao  much  as  leave 
its  mark  ou  him.  Indeed,  while  all  other  men 
were  failing  all  around  liim.  he  was  coining 
money.  It  iiad  always  been  his  habit  to  watcli 
the  market  closely,  in  order  to  profit  by  any  sud- 
den change  in  it,  and  his  keen  sagacity  enabled 
him  to  see  the  approach  of  the  storm  long  before 
It  burst,  and  to  prepare  for  it.  He  at  once 
marked  down  all  his  goods  as  low  as  jiossible, 
and  began  to  "  sell  for  cost,"  originating  the  sys- 
tem which  is  now  so  popular.  The  prices  wire 
very  low,  and  the  goods  of  the  best  quality. 
Everybody  complained  of  the  hard  times,  and  all 
were  glad  to  aavo  money  l>v  availing  themselves 
of  "  Stewart's  bargains."  in  this  way  he  carried 
on  a  retail  cash  trade  of  five  thousand  dollars 
per  day  in  the  midst  of  the  most  terrible  cnsia 
the  country  had  ever  aeon.  Other  merchants 
were  reduced  to  every  possible  expedient,  and 
were  compelled  to  send  their  goods  to  auction 
to  be  sold  for  what  thoy  would  bring,  so  groat 
was  their  need  for  ready  money.  Stewart  at- 
tended all  these  auction's  regularly,  and  pur- 
chased the  goods  thus  offered.  These  he  sohl 
rapidly,  by  means  ol  his  "  cost  systoni,"  realizing 
an  average  of  forty  per  cent.  It  is  said  tliat  he 
purchased  fifty  thousand  dollars'  worth  ot  silks 
in  this  way,  and  sold  the  whole  lot  in  a  few  days, 
making  a  profit  of  twenty  thousand  dollars  on 
the  transaction.    In  this  way  he  not  only  passed 


THE  LATE  A.  T.   8TEWAET. 

through  the  "  crisis,"  but  made  a  fortune  in  the 
midst  of  it. 

From  that  time  his  course  was  "  onward  and 
upward  "  to  fortune.  More  than  a  quarter  of  a 
century  ago  he  purchaaed  the  property  which  is 
now  the  site  of  his  wholesale  store,  and  com- 
menced to  erect  the  splendid  marble  warehouse 
which  now  bears  hia  name.  His  frienda  were 
surprised  at  hia  temerity.  They  told  hini  it  waa 
too  far  up-town,  and  on  "the  wroiigside  of  Broad- 
way; but  he  quietly  informed  them  that  a  few 
rears  would  vindicate  h^•*  wisdom  and  cop  his 


60 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE   CITY. 


fttore  the  center  of  the  most  flourishing  buBiness 
neighborhood  of  New  York.  His  predictions 
have  been  more  than  realized.  Ne  moved  into 
hie  new  store  in  1848,  and  continued  to  expand 
and  enlarge  his  busiuess  every  year.  Some 
years  ago  he  pHrcha«ed  the  old  Ninth  Street 
Dutch  Church  and  the  lots  adjacent  to  it,  com- 
prising the  entire  block  lying  between  Ninth  and 
Tenth  Streets,  Broadway  and  Fourth  Avenue. 
When  he  found  the  retail  trade  going  up-town, 
and  deserting  its  old  haunts  below  Canal  Street, 
[he  erected  a  liue  iron  building  at  the  corner  of 


HENBT  BEBOH. 

Jtroadway  and  Tenth  Street,  to  which  he  removed 
the  retail  department  of  his  business,  continuing 
his  wholesale  trade  at  his  old  store  on  Chambers 
Street.  This  new  "  upper  store  "  has  increased 
with  the  business,  and  now  covers  the  entire 
block  upon  which  it  is  erected,  and  is  the  largest, 
most  complete,  and  magnificent  establishment 
of  its  kuid  in  the  world. 

Though  ho  took  no  active  part  in  politics,  he 
was  too  much  interested  in  public  affairs,  by 
reason  of  hisimmeuso  wealth,  not  to  watch  them 
closely.  He  was  sati!<ficd,  sometime  before  hos- 
tilities" began  during  tho  ribellion,  that  war  must 
como,  ana  quietly  set  to  work  and  made  con- 
tracts with  nearly  all  the  manufacturers  for  all 
their  productions  for  a  considerable  period  of 
time.  Accordingly,  when  the  war  dia  come,  it 
was  found  that  nearly  all  the  articles  ot  clothing, 
blankcta,  etc.,  needed  for  the  army  had  been 
monopolized  by  hini,  because  the  same  goods 
could  not  bo  purchased  elsewhere.  His  profits 
on  these  transactions  amounted  to  many  millions 
of  dollars,  though  it  should  bo  remarked  that  his 
dealings  with  the  government  were  characterized 
by  an  unusual  degree  of  liberality.  The  gains 
thus  realized  by  him  more  than  counterbalanced 
his  losses  by  the  sudden  cessation  of  his  South- 
ern trade. 

Mr.  Stewart  won  all  his  great  wealtli  fairlv  — 
not  by  trickery,  deceit,  or  even  by  a  questionable 
honesty,  but  Dy  a  series  of  mercantile  trans- 
actions, the  minutest  of  which  is  open  to  the 
most  rigid  scrutinv,  and  by  a  uatienco,  energy, 
tact,  industry,  and  genius  of  which  few  men  are 
possessed. 

Up  to  the  time  of  his  last  illness  he  was  one  of 
the  iiardest  workers  in  his  establishment.  He 
had  partners  to  assist  him  in  carrying  on  his  im- 
mense business,  but  they  were  merely  head 
clerks  in  the  various  depardncnta  and  divided 
only  the  profits  with  him.  Ho  assumed  the  en- 
tire" responsibility,  and  managed  the  entire  trade 
of  his  firm,  his  partners  acting  merely  as  he 
directed. 

He  went  to  his  business  between  nine  and  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  stopping  first  at  his 
upper  store.  He  made  a  brief  out  thorough  in- 
spection of  this  establishment,  ascertaining  its 
wants,  and  satisfying  hiniself  that  all  was  going 
on  properly,  anil  then  repaired  to  his  lower 
store,  where  ho  remained  until  business  hours 
were  over,  and  returned  home  between  five  and 
•IX  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.    Ho  worked  hard, 


and  was  never  absent  from  his  post,  unless  de- 
tained by  sickness. 

His  time  was  valuable,  and  he  was  not  willing 
to  waste  it;  therefore,  access  to  him  was  difficult. 
Ulany  persons  endeavored  to  see  him  merely  to 
gratiify  their  impertinent  curiosity,  and  others 
wished  to  intrude  upon  him  for  purposes  which 
simply  consumed  his  time.  To  protect  himself 
he  was  compelled  to  resort  to  the  following  ex- 
pedient: A  gentleman  was  kept  on  guard  near 
the  main  door  of  the  store,  whose  duty  it  was  to 
inquire  the  busmess  of  visitors.  If  the  visitor 
urged  that  his  business  was  private,  he  was  told 
that  Mr.  Stewart  had  no  private  business.  If  he 
stated  his  business  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
"sentinel,"  he  was  allowed  to  go  up-stairs,  where 
he  was  met  by  the  confidential  agent  of  the  great 
merchant,  to  whom  he  must  repeat  the  object  of 
his  visit.  If  this  gentleman  was  satisfied,  or 
could  not  get  rid  of  the  visitor,  he  entered  the 
private  office  of  his  employer  and  laid  the  case 
before  him.  If  the  business  of  the  visitor  was 
urgent  he  was  admitted;  otherwise  an  interview 
was  refused  him.  If  admitted  the  interview  was 
brief  and  to  the  point.  There  was  no  time  to  be 
lost.  Matters  were  dispatched  with  a  method 
and  promptitude  which  astonished  strangers.  II 
the  visitor  attempted  to  draw  the  merchant  into 
a  friendly  conversation,  or  indulged  in  useless 
complimentary  phrases,  after  the  business  on 
which  he  had  come  was  arranged,  Mr.  Stewart's 
manner  instantly  became  cold  and  repelling, 
and  troublesome  persons  were  not  unfrequently 
given  a  hint  to  leave  the  room.  This  was  his 
working-time  and  it  was  precious  to  hiti.  Mr. 
Stewart  was  of  the  medium  height,  thin,  had 
siiiidy  hair,  sharp,  well-cut  features,  a  clear, 
1 'light  eye,  and  a  calm,  thoughtful  face.  His 
niaiiuer  was  rescrvi-d,  not  to  say  cold.  He 
dressed  with  scrupulous  neatness,  and  in  the 
style  of  the  day.  Ho  died  in  the  year  1879,  at 
the  age  of  eighty-three. 


HENRY   BEBGH. 

Henry  Bergh's  everyday  life  during  nearly 
twenty  years,  has  been  an  expression  of  eympa- 
thv  with  "our  poor  earthborn  companions  and 
feflow-mortals,    the  dumb  creatures. 

He  was  boru  in  New  York  City,  in  the  year 
1823.  His  father  was  a  wealthy  man,  the  lead- 
ing American  shipbuilder  of  his  time.  He  was 
a  native  of  the  Empire  Slate,  and  a  long-time 


AKTHONX  OOUSTOOK. 

resident  of  New  York  City,  which  deeply  mourned 
his  loss  when,  at  the  age  of  eighty-three,  he 
departed  this  life.  Mr.  Bergh's  grandfather  was 
a  native  of  Germany.  His  mother's  maiden 
name  was  Elizabeth  Ivers.  She  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  Connecticut  family  distinguished  for  ita 
excellent  qualities.  Blessed  with  a  superior 
parentage  possessing  ample  means,  Mr.  Bergh 
received  a  superior  education,  but  did  not  com- 
plete the  course  at  Columbia  College.  He  mar- 
ried wliile  young  a  Miss  Taylor,  daughter  of 
Engli"'''  parents.     In   1862    he   was    appointed 


Secretary  of  Legation  at  St.  Petersburg,  and  be- 
gan there  that  active  interference  in  behalf  of 
the  right  of  animals  to  kind  treatment,  which 
has  given  him  a  reputation  wide  as  civilization. 
Of  course,  his  services  to  abused  animals  in  the 
Bussian  capital  were  entirely  unofficial,  but  they 
were  effective,  thanks  to  the"  distinguished  char- 
acter of  his  equipage  and  the  fine  livery  of  his 
coachman.  Mr.  Bergh  resigned  his  position  on 
account  of  ill-health.  On  his  way  home  he  in- 
dulged in  the  luxury  of  leisurelv  "travel  and  be- 
came acquainted  with  the  Ear!  of  Harrowby, 
President  of  the  Boyal  Society  for  the  Prevention 
of  Cruelty  to  Animals,  Loudon.  The  society  of 
which  Mr.  Bergh  was  the  founder,  is  modeled 
largely  after  the  English  one  presided  over  by 
this  nobleman  until  his  death.  He  returned  to 
New  York  in  1864,  and  spent  a>  year  in  mafiring 


THOMAS   .\.    EDISON. 

his  plans  for  the  establishmentof  means  to  check 
and  prevent  cruelty  to  animals.  The  American 
Society  for  the  Prevention  ot  Cruelty  to  Animals 
was  instituted  in  1865.  In  1866,  it  was  given  by 
statute  the  powers  ot  prosecution  and  even  ar- 
rest, which  it  still  possesses.  Mr.  Bergh  has 
been  its  president  since  its  inception,  and  its 
invaluable  services  to  beast,  and  man  as  well — 
for  men  are  made  better  by  being   taught  the 

f)ractice  of  humanity  toward  dumb  creatures,  are 
argely  due  to  his  resolution,  the  moral  elevation 
of  his  character,  his  tact,  unflinching  courage 
and  unconquerable  perseverance.  He  stands 
six  feet  higu,  and  his  appearance  and  carriage 
denote  a  power  of  will  which  readily  commands 
respect.  But  his  appeal  to  the  moral  sense  and 
his  disinterestedness  are  the  principal  elements 
of  his  Buccess.  He  receives  no  salary  for  his 
work,  freclv  gives  his  time  and  energies  to  it, 
and  the  public  know  this  to  be  the  case  and  re- 
spect and  honor  the  man  who  makes  the  nacri- 
fice.  The  statute  of  1866  constitutes  Mr.  Beiph 
an  assistant  district  attorney  in  New  York  City 
and  assistant  of  the  attorney  "general  of  the  State, 
in  the  enforcement  of  the  laws  against  cruelty  to 
animals.  He  is  a  member  of  the  Bar,  and  effec- 
tive in  the  court-room,  as  well  as  in  interferences 
in  behalf  of  animals  in  the  public  streets  and 
elsewhere,  and  on  the  public  platform  as  a  lec- 
turer enforcing  the  wisdom  and  duty  of  humane 
feeling  and  action. 

The  New  York  society  has  325  workers  in  the 
State.  Thirtv-six  States  in  tbe  Union  have 
founded  simifar  organizations,  and  Mr.  Bergh's 
correspondenco  contains  many  applications  fiom 
foreign  lands  for  information  as  to  liis  methods 
and  the  laws  under  which  he  works.  During 
the  first  year  of  its  existence  as  an  ageucv  en- 
forcing that  law  of  the  State  which  induced  a 
principle  new  in  American  jurisprudence,  name- 
ly, that  men's  ownership  of  interior  creatures  is 
limited  by  the  claims  of  an  enlightened  human- 
ity, the  American  Society  for  the  Prevention  of 
Crueltv  to  Animals  prosecuted  101  persons;  in 
1881,  855,  and  the  total  number  of  prosecutions 
up  to  the  end  of  last  year  was  9,121.  The  total 
number  of  disabled  "animals  suspended  from 
work  m  the  cities  of  New  York  and  Brooklyn, 
from  1861  to  1881,  was  21,291.  No  arrests  were 
made  in  these  cases,  but  the  drivers  or  owners 
were  warned  and  advised.  A  total  of  nearly  two 
thousand  animals  was  destroyed  by  agents  of  the 
Bocietv,  in  1S81.     ?Ir.  Bergh's  society  owns  three 


THE   GREAT    EMPIRE   CITY. 


61 


auibiilancoB  fur  the  removal  of  dmablod  auimalH 
from  tlio  street,  and  a  derrick  to  rescue  them 
from  excavatious  iuto  which  they  might  fall. 
The  Royal  Society,  London,  has  no  appliauccH 
(ff  this  nature,  aucl  the  presumption  ia  that  the 
large  nunibtrof  poor  horaoH,  etc.,  whicli,  become 
disabled  in  the  streets  of  that  great  city,  lie  there 
to  du)  nrirogardod.  Dog-flghting  men,  rat-baiters 
and  cook-lighters,  as  a  matter  of  course,  regard 
Mr.  Borgh  as  an  enemy,  but  their  opposition, 
brutal  atid  bold,  is  of  less  ininortanco  than  the 
indifl'oreuco  to  the  objects  of  his  society,  con- 
tempt, or  half-avowed  opposition  of  people  who 
consiiler  themselves  cultured,  and  of  newspapers 
which  boast  of  their  adaptation  to  family  reading 
and  yet  contain  demoralizing  acccmnts  of  bloody 
dogRghts.  The  discussion  as  to  the  propriety 
of  vivisection  is  still  open,  but  it  may  be  well  to 
recall  Iho  fact  that  Majendie,  the  iissector  of 
forty  thousand  unfortunate  living  creatures,  de- 
clared vivisection  to  bo  a  failure.  Pigeon  shoot- 
ing, a  form  of  sport  affected  by  the  wealthy  and 
influential,  Mr.  Borgli  lias  not  been  able  to  stop. 
Dog  fighting  as  provided  and  exhibited  ou  Long 
Island,  thanks  to  the  vigilance  of  his  officers, 
may  now  bo  regarded  as  a  thing  of  the  past. 
About  three  years  ago  the  attempt  was  made  to 
institute  the  sport  of  bull-fighting  in  New  York 
City.  Men  had  arrived  from  Spain  for  this  pur- 
pose, an  arena  had  been  built  and  performances 
were  announced,  when  Mr.  Bergli  with  some 
fifty  policemen  put  an  end  to  the  enterprise, 
with  groat  loss  to  its  jiromoters.  There  is  no 
possibility  of  such  an  experiment  being  tried 
again  in  I^ow  Yoi  k.  Tho  income  of  the  society  in 
1881  was  $25,480.2.5,  and  the  balance  in  its  favor 
at  tho  end  of  tho  year  $1,8G4.72.  It  has  been  as- 
sisted powerfully  by  bequests,  especially  that  of 
Loais  Bonard,  of  $150,000,  contested  by  relatives 
but  confirmed  the  property  of  the  society,  by 
judicial  decision.  "Our  Animal  Friends"  is 
the  name  of  a  pictorial  monthly  magazine  pub- 
lished under  the  auspices  of  the  society,  and 
which  has  a  large  uumbor  of  readers. 

The  value  of  Mr.  Bergh's  work  is  incalculable. 
From  tho  standpoint  of  mere  economy,  kindness 
to  animals  is  cheaper  than  cruelty  and  far  more 
productive,  as  many  men  who  have  come  under 
the  influence  of  Mr.  Bergh'a  persuasion,  though 
once  they  opposed  it,  now  admit.  To  increase 
tho  happiness  of  tho  animals  dependent  upon  us 
and  to  avoid  crueltj'  toward  all  creatures  pos- 
sessed of  oonscious  life,  is  a  gratification  of  a 
high  order,  and  a  means  to  moral  improvement 
of  great  importance,  as  the  experience  of  all  per- 
sons thus  actuated  confirms.  Brutality  and 
cruelty  are  checked  and  punished  by  the  means 
enforced  by  Mr.  Bergh,  and  young  people  ob- 
serve and  take  warning.  Inshort,  moral  pro- 
gress and  therefore  happiness  are  directly  as- 
sisted by  the  work  done  ny  him  and  those  every- 
where who  employ  themselves  in  the  same  hu- 
mane manner. 


AlfTHONY  COIISTOCK. 

The  pioneer  Society  for  tho  Suppression  of 
Vice  was  that  of  London,  instituted  in  1802.  It 
was  not  until  May  16,  1873,  that  the  act  incor- 
porating the  New  York  Society  for  the  Suppres- 
sion of  Vice  was  passed  by  the  Legislature  of 
tho  State.  The  Society's  plan  is  thus  stated: 
1.  Obtain  information  that  a  crime  is  being  com- 
mitted. 2.  Legal  evidence  of  that  crime.  3.  A 
warrant  in  due  form  of  law.  i.  That  warrant 
executed,  and  no  notice  sent  to  the  criminal  to 
enable  him  to  escape.  5.  A  trial  according  to 
law.  6.  A  sentence  that  shall  be  commensurate 
with  the  crime.  The  work  of  the  Society  is  di- 
vided into  two  parts,  that  for  the  suppression  of 
obscene  literature  and  pictures,  and  that  for  the 
suppression  of  lottery  and  policy  gambhng. 
Other  American  societies  of  a  kindred  sort  are 
The  New  England  Society  for  the  Suppression 
of  Vice,  estiiblished  four  years  ago,  with  its  head- 
quarters in  Boston;  and  The  Western  Society  for 
tho  Suppression  of  Vice,  which  has  its  head- 
quarters in  Cincinnati,  with  branches  in  Cleve- 
land, Detroit,  Louisville,  Chicago,  St.  Louis, 
Peoria,  Rock  Island,  Keokuk  and  Toledo. 

At  the  head  and  front  of  the  movement  as  an 
effective  worker,  "  a  terror  to  evil-doers,"  is  An- 
thony Comstock.  He  was  born  at  New  Canaan, 
Conn.,  March  7, 1814,  the  son  of  Thomas  A.  Coin- 
stock.  His  mother  died  when  he  was  ten  years 
of  age.  After  receiving  the  rudiments  ot  educa- 
tion he  was  placed  at  the  high  school.  New 
Britain,  Conn.,  but  was  removed  after  one  year's 
attendance  under  the  pressure  of  financial  neces- 
sity. His  first  position  in  business  was  as  clerk 
in  a  grocery  store  at  Winmpauk,  Conn.,  which 
ho  entered  upon  in  1861.  He  remained  there 
two  years,  and  then  enhsted  in  the  Seventeenth 
Rogiment  of  Connecticnt  Infantrv.    Two  vears  a 


soldier,  ho  was  mustered  out  with  his  regiment, 
and  again  took  a  position  as  a  grocer's  clerk. 
After  a  short  time,  he  went  to  Lookout  Mountain 
to  assist  in  superintending  the  repair  of  tho  build- 
ings of  tho  Lookout  Mountain  Educational  Insti- 
tute. Illness  compelled  his  return  to  Connecti- 
cut. Upon  his  recovery  ho  made  his  way  to  New 
York  City  with  a  borrowed  capital  of  five  dollars. 
There  he  found  employment  as  a  porter  in  a 
commission  house,  and  while  holding  the  second 
of  two  other  Hul)ordinato  positions  began  his 
work  in  tho  suppression  of  licentious  literature, 
at  first  without  aid  and  with  very  limited  means 
of  carrying  on  his  work.  His  first  arrests  were 
made  in  March,  1872.  3Ir.  Morris  K.  Jessup 
came  to  his  aid  with  a  contribution  towards  the 
work  ot  six  hundred  dollars,  by  the  help  of  which 
he  was  enabled  to  seize  forty  thousand  dollars' 
worth  of  obscene  plates  and  nooks.  The  Young 
Men's  Christian  Association  then  came  to  his  as- 
sistance, and  the  society  of  which  he  is  now  sec- 
retary was  organized  and  incorporated.  Mr. 
Comstock  is  a  plucky  and  vigorous  man,  and  the 
most  serious  result  of  several  brutal  attacks 
upon  him  so  far,  has  been  the  laying  open  his 
check  with  a  bowie  knife.  Ho  has  been  threat- 
ened witli  death  many  times,  but  pursues  his 
useful  course  with  remarkable  courage  and  per- 
sistency. One  secret  of  his  strength  is  suggested 
iu  the  gratitude  ho  has  expressed  for  the  gift  of 
a  sixteen-shooter  Winchester  repeatiug-rifle, 
presented  to  him  in  March,  1882,  uy  Mr.  Con- 
verse, President  of  the  Winchester  Repeating- 
Arnis  Company.  Mr.  Comstock  and  the  society 
ho  represents  are  tho  victims  of  frequent  slan- 
ders. Ono  of  the  most  damaging  statements 
made  against  him  has  been  that  he  opens  letters 
in  transit  in  the  Post  Office.  Speaking  on  this 
matter  at  the  last  annual  meeting  of  the  New 
York  Society,  tho  Hon.  Thomas  L.  James,  ox- 
Postmaster  General,  said: 

"  I  am  informed  that  there  is  a  wide-spread 
belief  that  Mr.  Comstock  opens  letters  in  transit 
in  the  Post  Office.  The  idea  is  simply  absurd. 
No  letter  is  tampered  with  in  the  Post  Office, 
and  it  is  duo  Mr.  Comstock  to  say  that  ho  never 
attempted  to  tamper  with  a  letter." 

The  income  of  the  New  York  Society  is  not 
much  above  eight  thousand  dollars  a  year,  and 
the  wonder  is  that  it  accomplishes  so  much  good 
work.  Eightj'-seven  persons  were  arrested  by 
its  means  from  January  1st  to  August  1st  of  1882, 
as  offenders  against  the  laws  for  tho  suppression 
of  obscene  matter,  policy-gambling,  lotteries, 
etc.  In  the  last  report,  we  find  that  a  total  of 
five  hundred  and  eighty-two  persons  had  been 
arrested  up  to  tiie  time  of  its  preparation.  The 
books  and  sheet  stock  alone,  which  had  been 
seized  weighed  27,584  lbs.  As  many  as  203,328 
obscene  pictures  and  photographs  had  been 
seized;  7,400  microscopic  pictures  of  indecent 
character;  1,700  negative  plates  for  obscene  pho- 
tographs; 64,836  articles  for  immoral  use;  6,122 
semi-transparent  playing  cards,  and  1,376,939 
indecent  circulars,  songs,  poems,  etc.  Tho  weight 
seized  of  the  stereotyps  plates  for  printing  licen- 
tious books  had  been  14,495  lbs.  A  total  of  more 
than  twenty-five  tons  weight  of  contraband  mat- 
ter had  been  seized.  Mr.  Comstock  had  traveled, 
outside  of  New  York  City,  173,992  miles  m  the 
prosecution  of  his  work. 

One  of  his  most  notable  accomplishments  was 
on  the  9th  of  October,  1882,  when  he  and  about 
twentj'  assistants,  who  bad  all  been  made  deputy 
sheriffs  by  Judge  Gilbert,  of  the  Supreme  Court 
of  New  I'ork  State,  then  holding  court  in  Long 
Island  Citv,  made  a  raid  on  tho  pool  rooms  at 
Hunter's  tomt,  seized  about  twenty-five  thou- 
sand dollars'  worth  of  gambler's  articles  and  ar- 
rested three  of  twenty-two  persons  against  whom 
warrants  had  been  issued.  The  proceeding  had 
been  undertaken  by  Mr.  Comstock  at  the  request 
of  the  Law  and  Order  Society  of  Long  Island 
City.  So  cleverly  had  arrangements  been  made 
that  the  necessary  evidence,  warrants,  and 
search  warrants  had  been  procured,  Mr.  Com- 
stock and  bis  men  sworn  m  as  deputy  sheriffs 
and  the  raid  actually  begun  before  the  offenders 
against  the  law  realized  fully  what  was  being 
done.  In  getting  to  one  pool  room  Mr.  Comstock 
passed  through  the  saloon  kept  by  a  local  cor- 
oner, who  protested  against  what  he  called  a 
trespass  and  vainly  tried  to  prevent  him  enter- 
ing tho  premises  beyond.  Mx.  Comstock  burst 
open  the  door  and  accomplished  his  purpose  in 
the  seizure  of  the  implements  of  gambling.  Ho 
was  subsequently  arrested  under  a  warrant  pro- 
cured from  a  local  justice  by  the  coroner,  and 
notwithstanding  that  he  showed  proofs  of  his  au- 
thority as  a  deputy  sheriff,  was  ordered  to  appear 
for  trial  the  next  day.  The  day  after  the  case 
was  postponed  until  the  following  Thursday, 
when  the  justice,  acting  according,  to  the  advice 
of  the  district  attorney,  dismissed  it. 


THOMAS   A.    EDISON. 

Thomas  A.  Edison,  the  great  inventor,  was  bora 
in  Milan,  Erie  County,  Ohio,  February  11,  1847, 
so  that  he  is  still  a  young  man.  Tho  number  of 
patents  already  granted  him  approaches  two 
hundred.  Ho  is  ot  mixed  Hollander  and  En- 
glish blood,  his  grandfather  having  been  a  Dutch- 
man who  settled  near  Newark,  N.  J.,  and  who 
married  into  the  Ogdons,  a  lamily  of  English  de- 
scent. Edison  began  his  working  life  as  a  news- 
boy when  only  about  eight  years  old,  at  Port 
Huron,  Mich.  Five  years  afterwarrl  he  succeed- 
ed in  procuring  a  contract  for  the  exclusive  sale 
of  newspapers  on  tlio  Grand  Trunk  Railway  of 
Canada,  to  which  fact  is  duo  tho  report  that  he 
is  a  Canadian.  His  liusiuess  grew  rapidly  under 
his  clover  and  energetic  iiianagcmint,  and  was 
supplemented  by  an  essay  in  jounuilism,  the 
Grand  Trunk  Ilerald,  which  he  printed  with  his 
own  typo  and  his  own  hands.  The  pro;,'re88  of 
the  war  at  this  time  assisted  bis  paper,  >vlilch  had 
at  one  timo  four  hundred  and  lifiy  subncribora. 
Dropping  his  publication,  he  began  the  siudy  of 
chemistry,  prosecuting  it  in  coniK-ction  with  his 
newspaper  Dusiuess.  WheiLhis  experiments  ou 
the  train  had  resulted  in  his  stttiug  lire  to  a  car 
by  the  ignition  of  phosphorus,  he  was  forced  to 
abandon  it.  Ho  next  pursued  telegraphy  as  a, 
means  of  livelihood,  and  becanio  extraordinarily 
apt  as  an  operator.  In  18(i7,  when  living  in  Cin- 
cmnati,  he  began  experimenliiig  with  the  view  to 
send  two  messages  at  once  over  one  wire,  and 
succeeded  in  doing  this  in  Boston  not  long  after- 
ward. This  was  the  first  of  tho  many  inventions 
which  have  oai-ned  for  him  and  his  country  im- 
mortal honor.  His  phonograph  first  attracted 
tho  attention  of  the  leading  scientific  men  of  Eu- 
rope by  reason  of  its  exhibition  at  the  French 
Institute  in  1878.  No  better  idea  of  the  multi- 
plicity and  value  of  his  inventions  can  be  given 
than  by  mentioning  the  leading  features  of  his 
exhibit  lu  Pans  at  the  Electrical  Exhibition,  1881, 
where  his  was  the  largest,  most  important,  and 
most  varied  of  the  many  exhibits.  It  included 
his  system  of  electric  lighting  by  incandescence, 
his  disc  dynamo-electric  machine,  his  microtasi- 
metor,  which  measures  the  smallest  changes  ia 
temperature;  his  odoroscope,  which  renders 
visible  the  presence  of  certain  essential  oils  and 
hydrocarbon  vapors,  and  also  registers  their 
action;  his  electromotograph,  which  reproduces 
the  human  voice  at  a  distance,  like  tho  telephone, 
but  with  a  greater  intensity,  etc. 


PHDIEAS  T.    BABNUM. 

The  career  of  the  Connecticut  showman  has 
been  an  extraordinary  one.  Uniting  a  happy 
audacity  of  design  with  obstinacy  in  its  execu- 
tion, he'has  succeeded  in  amassing  a  handsome 
fortune  out  of  ideas  which  would  be  pronounced 
impracticable  by  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  has 
made  his  name  known  as  far  as  the  language  is 
spoken.  Frank  in  address  and  courteous  in 
manner,  he  has  deservedly  been  popular  among 
those  who  frequent  exhibitions,  and  the  curious 
compound  of  philanthropic  Christianity  with  the 
habitual  deceit  of  a  caterer  to  the  element  ot 
wonder  in  mankind  which  Bamum  shows  is  pe- 
culiar to  himself. 

Phineas  Taylor  Bamum  is  the  eon  of  a  typical 
Connecticut  Yankee,  who,  from  the  predomi- 
nance of  hope  over  caution  displayed  in  his  or- 
ganization, never  succeeded  in  amassing  a  for- 
tune. He  was  born  on  the  day  succeeding  the 
anniversary  of  independence,  in  the  year  1810. 
All  the  education  Barnum  ever  received  was  ob- 
tained in  the  common  schools  of  Connecticut, 
and  it  is  recorded  of  him  that  at  twelve  years  of 
age  he  was  counted  apt  and  skillful  at  figures, 
although  it  does  not  seem  that  on  his  first  visit 
to  New  York  he  had  studied  the  currency  tables, 
as  he  offered  a  woman  who  kept  a  stall  in  the 
streets  ten  cents  for  two  oranges  which  she  had 
demanded  fourpence  each  for.  She  gravely  as- 
sented, leaving  tho  young  orange  eater  to  "sup- 
pose that  he  had  made  two  cents  by  the  bargain, 
whereas,  as  the  Yankee  fourpence  was  six  cents, 
he  lost  two.  Bargaining  was,  indeed,  one  of  the 
delighta  of  youth  at  that  day,  and  Bamum  sold 
cookies,  gingerbread,  and  cherry-rum  to  his 
schoolmates  and  the  neighborhood  before  he  was 
twelve  years  of  age,  and  would,  undoubtedly, 
have  become  a  small  Crceaus  if  his  father  had 
not  kindly  permitted  him  to  pay  for  bis  own 
clothes. 

The  first  regular  business  the  subject  of  our 
sketch  was  employed  in  was  as  a  clerk  in  a  coun- 
try store,  which  taught  him  the  tendency  to  de- 
ceit in  the  human  mind,  and  led  him  to  keep  a 
sharp  look-out  for  frauds  of  all  kinds.  A  wagon- 
load  of  oats  would  bo  found  to  be  four  or  five 
bushels  short,  fleeces  of  wool  would  have  stones 
in  them,  and  bundles  of  rags  would  be  filled  m 


62 


THE   GREAT   EMPIRE    CITY. 


the  interior  with  ashee  or  gravel.  Trials  of  prac- 
tical jokes  would  frequently  occur,  and  the  most 
ordinary  exprossion  might  contain  a  sell,  so  that 
Phineas  had  his  wits  fully  employed.  After  be- 
ing a  while  m  this  situation,  his  father  died,  and 
he  accepted  another  place  m  a  store  a  short  dis- 
tance from  homo,  where  he  showed  his  adminis- 
trative genius  by  organizing  a  lottery  where  most 
of  the  prizes  should  come  from  glass  and  defec- 
tive and  old  tinware.  The  scheme  spread  like 
wildfire,  and  the  store  succeeded  in  getting  rid 
of  all  their  unsalable  articles.  His  employer 
going  to  Brooklyn,  thou  only  a  village,  he  fol- 
lowed him,  and  at  the  age  of  seventeen  was  the 
buyer  for  the  house  in  the  New  York  marts.  He 
received  nothing  but  a  salary,  and,  becoming 
dissatisfied,  left,  and  opened  a  porter-house, 
which  he  soon  sold  out  to  good  advantage,  and 
then  became  a  clerk  to  another  liquor-dealer— 
all  this,  however,  without  himself  drinking. 

In  February,  1828,  he  returned  home  and 
opened  a  fruit  and  confectionery  store  on  a  capi- 
tal of  one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars.  Fifty 
were  used  in  fitting  up  the  store,  and  the  re- 
maining seventy  doQars  purchased  hifl  stock  in 
trade.  He  opened  on  the  first  Monday  in  May, 
general  training  day.  The  village  was  full  of 
people  who  had  been  attracted  by  the  doings, 
and  the  shop  was  full  all  day  long.  Sixty-three 
dollars  were  the  day's  receipts,  and  the  stock 
seemed  hardly  diminished.  Additional  pur- 
chases increased  the  goods,  and  in  the  fall  he 
added  stewed  oysters  to  the  inducements.  Lot- 
tery tickets  were  also  sold  on  a  commission  of 
ten  per  cent.,  and  as  large  numbers  of  them 
were  then  sold  everywhere  in  New  England, 
considerable  was  made. 

Becoming  attracted  by  a  fair  young  tailoress, 
named  Charity  Hallett,'whom  he  had  escorted 
home  one  night,  he  married  her  at  the  ago  of 
nineteen,  and  to  keep  up  his  character  for  en- 
terprise became  an  editor  when  scarce  twenty- 
one.  The  Herald  of  Freedom  was  a  success,  as 
far  as  influence  and  circulation  were  concerned, 
but  the  luckless  editor  was  three  times  sued  for 
libel,  and  once  imprisoned  for  sixty  days.  Com- 
fortable provision  was  made  for  him  in  jail;  the 
room  was  papered  and  carpeted,  ho  lived  well. 
Ills  Bubscription  list  rapidly  increased,  and  his 
leaving  was  celebrated  as  a  festival  by  the  citi- 
zens of  the  town.  His  crime  had  been  stating 
that  a  prominent  church  member  had  "been 
guilty  of  taking  iisnry  from  an  orphan  boy,"  and 
although  the  substantial  truth  of  the  assertion 
was  acknowledged  by  all,  the  old  law  maxim 
that  the  greater  the  truth  the  greater  the  libel 
was  held  to  be  good.  The  court-roimi  in  whicli 
he  was  convicted  was  the  scene  of  the  celebra- 
tion. An  ode  written  for  the  occasion  was  sung, 
an  oration  delivered,  and  several  hundred  gen- 
tlemen partook  of  a  eamptuous  dinner,  followed 
by  appropriate  toasts  ana  testimonials.  A  coach 
drawn  by  six  horses  was  jirt-ceded  by  forty  horse- 
men, and  was  followed  by  sixty  carriages.  Can- 
non were  fired  and  music  was  played,  and  it  was 
altogether  a  groat  triumph  for  Barnum. 

Although  he  had  carried  on  quite  an  extensive 
business,  yet  there  were  so  many  losses  by  run- 
ning away,  death,  failing,  ami  other  similar  ways, 
that  whe'u  he  closed  up  business  in  Bethel  and 
removed  to  Now  York,  whicli  he  did  in  1834, 
there  was  very  little  for  him  to  live  upon,  ex- 
cepting such  as  might  be  derived  from  his  agent 
fi)r  collections.  In  New  York  he  had  hoped  (o 
secure  some  position  in  a  mercantile  house,  but 
could  not.  Tlio  Sun,  which  was  then,  as  now,  a 
great  medium  fv)r  advertising  wants,  was  eager- 
ly perused  each  day.  There  were  many  chances 
for  going  into  business,  but  they  were  mostly 
patent  lilo-pills  or  a  self-acting  mouse-trap.  His 
wife  opened  a  private  boarding-house  on  Frank- 
fort Street,  and  Mr.  Barnum  finally  bouglit  an 
interest  in  a  grocery  store,  and  in  the  summer 
sucoeeding  made  hi's  first  entry  as  a  showman. 
Joice  Heth  was  the  speculation.'  Mr.  Coley  Bar- 
tram,  of  Connecticut,  informed  Barnum  tliat  he 
had  owned  an  interest  in  a  remarkable  old  negro 
woman,  who  was  ^ne  hundred  and  sixty  years 
old,  and  had  been  the  nurse  of  Gen.  Washington. 
At  this  time  (1835)  she  was  on  exhibition  in 
Philadelphia,  with  papers  authonticatinij  her 
age  and  iier  membership  in  the  Baptist  Church 
for  one  hundred  and  sixteen  years.    Satisfactory 

Eroof  seemed  to  be  oflfered'as  to  why  she  had 
een  forgotten  bo  long.  The  remaining  partner 
in  her  proprietorship  being  willing  to  sell,  Bar- 
num became  the  owner.  Joice  Heth,  to  use  the 
words  of  tho  exhibitor,  was  certainly  a  remark- 
able curiosity,  and  she  looked  as  if  she  might 
have  been  far  older  than  her  age  as  advertised. 
She  was  apparently  in  good  health  and  spirits, 
but  from  age  or  disease,  or  both,  was  unable  to 
change  her  position;  she  could  move  one  arm  at 
will,  hut  her  lower  limbs  could  not  be  straight- 


ened; her  left  arm  lay  across  her  breast  and  she 
could  not  remove  it;  the  fingers  of  her  left  hand 
were  drawn  down  so  as  nearly  to  close  it,  and 
were  fixed;  the  nails  on  that  hand  were  almost 
four  inches  long,  and  extended  above  her  wrist; 
the  nails  on  her  large  toes  had  grown  to  the 
thickness  of  a  quarter  of  an  inch;  tier  head  was 
covered  with  a  thick  bush  of  gray  hair;  but  she 
was  toothless  and  totally  blind,  fn"d  her  eyes  had 
sunk  so  deeply  in  the  sockets  us  to  have  disap- 
peared altogether. 

The  exhibition  was  successful,  as  every  ap- 
pliance of  the  printer's  art  was  used  to  got  people 
to  think  and  talk  and  become  curious  and  excited 
over  and  about  the  "rare  spectacle."  Posters, 
transparencies,  advertisements,  and  newspaper 
paragi'aphs  were  employed  regardless  of  cx- 
peuse,  and  the  rooms  were  crowded  continual- 
ly, netting  much  profit  to  the  proprietor,  until 
her  death,  which  occurred  in  the  next  February. 
Post-mortem  examinations  did  not  seem  to  indi- 
cate so  great  an  age  as  had  been  assumed,  but 
nothing  is  certainly  known  about  her.  His  sec- 
ond step  in  the  show  line  was  to  exhibit  an  Ital- 
ian juggler,  and  his  third  to  engage  as  treasurer 
to  a  traveling  circus.  He  afterward  continued 
in  the  itinerating  line,  going  from  one  place  to 
another,  until  the  middle  of  1841. 

Thirty  years  ago  in  New  York  there  was  stand- 
ing at  the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Ann  Street 
Scudder's  American  Museum — a  collection  of 
curiosities  from  every  quarter  of  the  globe,  and 
having  everything  from  a  turtle  weighing  four- 
teen hundred  pounds  to  a  curious  toothpick. 
Halleck  had  sung  its  praises  when  his  muse  had 
some  poetry  to  it,  and  it  was  altogether  one  of 
the  institutions  of  the  city.  Mr.  Scudder  wag 
dead,  and  the  property  was  held  in  trust  for  his 
daughters,  being  valued  at  fifteen  thousand  dol- 
lars, and  costing  probably  about  fifty  thousand. 
Since  his  death  it  had  been  losing  money,  and 
the  heirs  were  desirous  of  selling  it.  Barnum 
conceived  the  idea  of  buying  it,  and  asked  his 
friends  their  opinion. 

"  You  buy  the  American  Museum?"  said  one. 
"  What  do  you  intend  buying  it  with?" 

"Brass,"'  replied  he, ""  for  silver  and  gold 
have  I  none." 

The  Museum  building  then  belonged  to  Mr. 
Francis  W.  Olmsted,  a  retired  merchant,  to  whom 
Barnum  wrote  indicating  his  desire  to  buy  the 
collection,  and  saying  that  although  lie  had  no 
money,  yet  industry,  combined  with  tact  and  ex- 
perience, would,  he  thought,  enable  liim  to  meet 
every  payment  in  time.  He  therefore  asked  Mr. 
Olmsted  to  purchase  tho  Museum  in  his  own 
name;  to  give  him  a  writing  securing  it  to  Bar- 
num, provided  he  made  the  payments  punctual- 
ly, including  rent,  and  to  allow  twelve  and  a 
half  dollars  a  week  for  tho  support  of  his  family. 
There  was  also  a  forfeiture  clause.  In  replv  to 
this  letter,  Mr.  Olmsted  named  an  hour  wlion 
Barnum  could  call  on  him,  and  inquired  as  to 
his  habits  and  antecedents.  As  to  references, 
he  had  several  prominent  theatrical  and  circus 
men,  and  Mr.  Moaes  Y.  Beach,  of  the  New  York 
Sun.  Some  of  these  gentlemen  called  on  Mr. 
Olmsted  the  next  day,  and  spoke  well  of  the 
showman,  and  an  agreement  was  entered  into 
by  which  the  property  was  to  lie  bought  by  tlio 
owner  of  tho  building,'  an  accountant  and  ticket- 
taker  was  to  bo  paid  by  Barnum,  and  tho  whole 
building  was  also  leased  by  him  at  an  aggregate 
rent  of  $3,000  a  year.  On  seeing  Mr.  John  Heath, 
the  administrator  of  the  estate,  a  bargain  was 
struck  for  112,000,  payable  in  seven  yearly  in- 
stallments. Tlie  day  was  appointed  to  draw  and 
sign  the  writings,  and  all  parties  appeared,  when 
Mr.  Heath  announced  that  he  must  decline  any 
further  action,  as  he  ha<l  sold  the  collection  to 
Pealo's  Museum,  which  had  then  considerable 
reputation,  for  $15,000,  and  had  received  $1,000 
as  earnest. 

This  was  quite  a  blow  to  Barnum,  who  had 
confidently  expected  to  obtain  tho  collection, 
and  he  immediately  took  measures  to  inform 
himself  as  to  whom  the  managers  of  the  Museum 
were.  They  proved  to  bo  a  party  of  speculators 
who  had  bought  Peale's  collection  for  a  few  thou- 
sand dollars,  expecting  to  join  the  American 
Museum  with  it,  and  then  to  sell  stock  to  a  suffi- 
cient extent  to  handsomely  reimburse  them- 
selves. 

Barnum  went  immediatelv  to  several  of  the 
editors,  including  Major  jf.  M.  Noah,  M.  Y. 
Beach,  and  to  West,  Herrick,  and  Bopes,  of  the 
Alias,  and  others,  and  stated  his  grievances. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  if  you  will  give  me  the  use 
of  vour  columns,  I'll  bl'ow  that  speculation  sky- 
hig"h." 

■They  all  consented,  and  he  wrote  a  large  num- 
ber of  soiiibs,  cautioning  the  public  against  buy- 
ing the  Museum  slock,  ridiculing  the  idea  of  a 
board  of  broken-down  bank  directors  en;,'a;,'inp; 


in  the  exhibition  of  stuffed  monkey  and  gander- 
skins;  appealing  to  the  case  of  the  Zoological 
Institute,  which  had  failed  by  adopting  such  a 
plan  as  the  one  now  proposed;  and  finallv  told 
the  public  that  such  a  speculation  would  bo  in- 
finitely more  ridiculous  than  Dickens's  "  Grand 
United  Metropolitan  Hot  Mufiin  and  Crnmpet- 
Baking  and  Punctual  Delivery  Company." 

The  stock  was  as  "  dead  as  a  herring."  He 
then  went  to  Mr.  Heath  and  asked  him  when  the 
directors  were  to  pay  the  other  $14,000. 

"  On  the  26th  day'of  December,  or  forfeit  the 
one  thousand  dollars  already  paid,"  was  the 
reply. 

He  was  assured  that  they  would  never  pay  it, 
that  they  could  not  raise  i't,  and  that  he  would 
ultimately  find  himself  with  the  Museum  collec- 
tion on  his  hands,  and  if  once  Barnum  started 
oflf  with  an  exhibition  for  the  South  he  would  not 
touch  the  Museum  at  any  price. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "if  you  will  agree  with  me 
confidentially,  that  in  case  these  gentlemen  do 
not  pay  you  on  the  26th  of  December,  I  may  have 
it  on  the  27th  for  twelve  thousand  dollars,  I  will 
run  the  risk,  and  wait  in  this  city  untU  that 
date." 

He  readily  agreed  to  the  proposition,  but  said 
ho  was  sure  they  would  not  forfeit  their  one 
thousand  dollars. ' 

"  Verv  well,"  said  Barnum;  "  all  I  ask  of  you 
19  that  this  arrangement  shall  not  be  mentione'd." 
He  assented.  "  On  the  27th  day  of  December, 
at  ten  o'clock  a.  m.,  I  wish  you  to  meet  me  in 
Mr.  Olmsted's  apartments  prepared  to  sign  the 
writings,  provided  this  incorporated  company 
do  not  pay  you  the  fourteen  thousand  on  the 
2Gth." 

He  agreed  to  this,  and  by  request  put  it  in 
writing. 

To  outside  parties,  then,  Barnum  remarked 
that  he  had  lost  the  Museum.  In  the  mean- 
while he  continued  his  newspaper  squibs  at  the 
company,  which  could  not  sell  a  dollar  of  its 
stock.  On  the  appointed  day  the  money  was  not 
paid,  and  Barnum  became  'the  proprietor,  and 
his  first  act  was  to  place  the  directors  and  presi- 
dent of  the  company  on  his  free  list.  They  were 
very  angry,  but  could  do  nothing,  and  Barnum 
bent  his  energies  to  the  building  up  and  success- 
ful conduct  of  his  enterprise,  dining  in  the  Mu- 
seum off  bread  and  cheese,  and  working  night 
and  day.  The  Museum  was,  even  in  Scudder's 
day,  worth  the  twenty-Qve  cents  charged  twice 
over,  and  it  was  speedily  much  increased.  In 
1842  Peale's  Museum  was  added,  and  in  1850  an- 
other largo  collection  was  obtained,  and  during 
all  Barnuni's  long  connectiim  with  it  additional 
curiosities  were  secured.  The  result  of  the  fru- 
gality and  enterprise  displayed  by  tho  manager 
was  that  in  a  year  the  entire  Mueeum  was  paid 
for  out  of  Its  surplus  earnings.  The  attractions 
were  conwfantly  varying— educated  dogs,  fat 
women,  dwarfs  and  giants,  industrious  fieas, 
albinos,  ventriloquists,  automatons,  panoramas, 
singing,  dancing,  pantomime,  and  theatrical  per- 
formances being  a  few. 

While  he  expended  money  liberally  for  attrac- 
tions for  the  inside  of  his  Museum,  and  bought 
or  hired  evervthing  curious  or  rare  which  was 
offered  or  could  be  found,  he  was  prodigal  in  his 
outlays  to  arrest  or  arouse  public  attention. 
When  he  became  proprietor  of  the  eatablish- 
ment,  there  were  only  the  words  "American 
.Museum  "  to  indicate  tlie  character  of  the  con- 
cern; there  was  no  bustle  or  activity  about  tho 
place;  no  posters  to  announce  what  was  to  be 
seen;  the  whole  exterior  was  as  dead  as  the 
skeletons  and  stuffed  skins  within.  His  experi- 
ence had  taught  him  the  advantages  of  advertis- 
ing. He  printed  whole  columns  in  the  papers, 
setting  forth  the  wonders  of  his  cstahlisument. 
Old  "  fogies  "  opened  their  eyes  in  amazement  at 
a  man  who  could  expend  hundreds  of  dollars  in 
announcing  a  show  of  "stuffed  monkey  skins;  "• 
but  these  same  old  fogies  paid  their  quarters, 
nevertheless,  and  when  they  saw  the  curiosities 
and  novelties  in  the  Museum  halls,  they,  like  all 
other  visitors,  were  astonished  as  well  as  pleased, 
and  went  homo  and  told  their  friends  and  neigh- 
bors, and  thus  assisted  in  advertising  his  busi- 
ness. 

One  of  tho  happiest  hits  ever  made  by  Barnum 
was  the  engagement  of  General  Tom  Thumb, 
who  was  found  by  the  showman  in  Bridgeport, 
Conn.  Ho  was  then  onlv  five  years  old,  was  less 
than  two  feet  high,  and  weighed  about  sixteen 
pounds.  Under  the  acute  management  of  the 
manager  of  the  Museum  ho  was  made  to  appear 
eleven  years  of  age,  and  was  placarded  as  the 
.smallest  dwarf  ever  known.  The  exhibition  was 
very  successful  in  America,  and  a  year  or  two 
alter  Tom  was  taken  to  England,  where  all  the 
arts  of  advertising  were  brought  into  requisition. 
A  l>ri 'fi  ii;.;a'.^'-iiieiil  wan  made  willi  the  Pi  ii:eeef -i 


THE    GRKAT    EMPIRE   CITY. 


63 


TLeatro,  the  Oeueral  was  invited  iiitu  the  houses 
of  Baron  Uothscliild  aud  others  of  the  nobility, 
and  tlio  Quoon  gave  a  private  interview.  The 
money  coined  in  Kn;;lanil  was  very  great,  and 
subseiinently  as  prutitablu  tours  wuro  taken  in 
%'ranoo  and  OeruMny. 

As  wo  descend  later  in  time,  wo  find  aocountH 
of  tlio  Jenny  liMid  excitement.  Nothing  similar 
to  it  had  ever  been  known  bet'oro,  and  it  will 
probably  noviu-  happen  again.  The  outhusiaani 
was  trenieiidourt. '  [Seats  sold  for  prices  for  which 
a  honso  nii^ht  bo  obtained,  the  pleasure  ot  the 
people  who  attended  was  unbounded,  and  the 
golden  stream  of  wealth  flowed  niioeasiugly  into 
the  treasury  of  Barnuni.  Her  lame  was  great 
before  she  arrived  hero,  but  the  impresario  had 
forestalled  public  opinion;  the  prews  was  tilled 
for  months  previous  with  descriptions  oi  ./enny, 
her  gooilaoss,  her  benevolence,  and  the  unaffect- 
ed simplicity  of  her  manners,  and  the  quahtics 
of  her  voice,  one  of  the  most  syinpathetio  and 
tlezible  over  known,  wore  oxpatiatP(I  uponby  the 
editors,  who  seem  to  have  gone  mad.  Pictures 
wore  to  bo  found  in  every  shop  window,  and 
every  apprentice  and  shop-girl  know  all  the  par- 
ticulars of  tho  career  of  the  Swedish  nightingale. 
.\dvorliseinents  were  inserted  everywhere,  and 
nothing  was  loft  unatteniptod  to  cause  a  general 
intoxication  of  tho  public  iniud.  For  weeks  after 
her  arrival  m  America  tho  excitement  was  un- 
abated. Her  rooms  were  thronged  by  visitors, 
including  tho  magnates  of  tho  land  in  both 
Church  and  State.  Tho  carriages  of  the  wealth- 
iest citizens  could  be  soon  in  front  of  her  hotel 
at  nearly  all  hours  of  tho  day,  and  it  was  with 
some  difficulty  that  Baruum  prevented  the 
"fashionables"  from  monopolizing  her  alto- 
gether, and  thus,  as  ho  believed,  sadly  marring 
uis  interest  by  cutting  her  off  from  the  warm 
sympathies  she  bad  awakened  among  the  masses. 
Presents  of  all  sorts  were  showered  upon  her. 
Milliners,  mantua-makera,  aud  shopkeepers  vied 
with  each  other  in  calling  her  attention  to  their 
wares,  of  which  they  sent  her  many  valuable 
specimens,  delighted  if,  in  return,  they  could  re- 
ceive her  autograph  acknowledgment.  Songs, 
(piadriUes,  aud  polkas  were  dedicated  to  her, 
and  poets  sung  in  her  praise.  Wo  had  Jenny 
Lind  gloves,  Jenny  Lind  bonnets,  Jenny  Linil 
riding  hats,  jeany  Lmd  shawls,  mantillas,  robes, 
chairs,  sofas,  pianos — in  fact,  everything  was 
Jenny  Lind.  Her  movements  were  constantly 
watched,  and  the  moment  her  carriage  appeared 
at  tho  door  it  was  surrounded  by  multitudes, 
eager  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  tho  Swedish  nightin- 
gale. 

This  was  tho  luckiest  hit  of  Barnum's  genius. 
Three-quarters  of  a  million  of  dollars  were  re- 
ceived by  the  troupe,  and  the  profits  were  prob- 
ably not  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  million  for  Bar- 
num,  and  Jenny's  were  one  hundred  and  seven- 
ty-six thousand.  It  was  all  obtained  in  ninety- 
five  concerts,  and  shows  conclusively  the  eager- 
ness of  the  American  public  to  hear  tho  song- 
stress. 

Among  other  undertakings  of  Baruum  were 
plowing  ny  elephants  in  Connecticut,  the  Crystal 
Palace  of  New  York,  Phillip's  Annihilator,  and 
the  Illustrated  N'ews.  In  fact,  he  was  engaged 
in  so  many  enterprises  that  it  is  difficult  to  follow 
them.  But  among  these  there  was  an  unlucky 
connection  with  the  Jerome  Clock  Company, 
which  succeeded  in  bankrupting  the  showman, 
and  compelled  him  almost  to  commence  anew. 
In  the  course  of  time,  however,  he  built  up  an- 
other fortune,  and  has  succeeded  in  retaining  it, 
spite  of  tho  destruction  of  his  Museum  twice  by 
fire,  and  other  accidents  by  flood  and  field. 
During  tho  period  of  his  adversity  he  exhibited 
tho  little  General  in  Europe,  among  other  enter- 
prises, and  also  lectured  on  the  art  of  money- 
getting. 

Mr.  Barnum  relates  many  amusing  stories  re- 
garding shrewd  dodges  in  advertising,  among 
which  is  the  following: 

•'  Goniu,  tho  hatter,  bought  the  first  Jenny 
Lind  ticket  at  auction  for  two  hundred  aud  tweu- 
ty-tive  dollars,  because  he  knew  it  would  be  a 
good  advertisement  for  him.  '  Who  is  the  bid- 
der?'  said  the  auctioneer,  as  he  knocked  down 
that  ticket  at  Castle  Garden.  '  Genin,  the  hat- 
ter,' was  the  response.  Here  were  thousands 
of  people  from  the  Fifth  Avenue  aud  from  dis- 
tant cities  in  the  highest  stations  in  life.  '  Who 
is  "Genin,  tho  hatter:"  they  exclaimed.  They 
had  never  heard  of  him  before.  The  next  morn- 
ing the  newspapers  aud  telegraph  had  circulated 
the  facts  from  Maine  to  Texas,  and  from  five  to 
ten  millions  of  people  had  read  that  the  tickets 
sold  at  auction  for  Jenny  Lind's  first  concert 
amounted  to  about  twenty  thousand  dollars,  and 
that  a  single  ticket  was  sold  at  two  hundred  aud 
twenty-five  dollars  to  '  Genin,  the  hatter.'  Men 
;hronghout   the   country  involuntarily   took   oft" 


their  Lata  to  soo  if  they  bad  a  '  Genin '  hat  on 
their  heads.  At  a  town  in  Iowa  it  was  found 
that  in  the  crowd  around  the  post-office  there 
was  one  man  who  had  a  '  Gonm '  hat,  and  he 
showed  it  in  triumph,  although  it  was  worn  out 
and  not  worth  two  cents.  '  Why,' one  man  ex- 
claimed, '  you  have  a  real  "  (ii^niii '"  hat;  what  a 
lucky  fellow  you  are.'  Another  man  said,  '  Hang 
on  to  that  hat;  it  will  bo  a  valuable  heirloom  in 
your  family.'  Still  another  man  in  tho  crowd, 
"who  Boenied  to  ouvy  the  possessor  of  this  good 
fortune,  said,  '  Come,  give  us  all  a  chance;  put  it 
up  at  auction.'  Ho  did  so,  and  it  was  sold  as  a 
keepsake  for  nine  dollars  aud  fifty  cents.  What 
was  the  cousecpieucc  to  Mr.  Gciiin  V  Ho  sold  ten 
thousand  extra  hats  |)cr  annum  tho  first  six 
years.  N'ine-tontlm  of  tho  purchasers  bought  of 
Iiiiii,  probably,  out  of  curiosity,  and  many  of 
them,  finding  that  he  gave  them  an  equivalent 
for  their  money,  bccanio  his  regular  customers. 
This  novel  advertisement  first  struck  their  atten- 
tion, and  then,  as  ho  made  a  good  article,  they 
came  again." 

The  return  to  prosperity  has  not  been  suc- 
ceeded by  any  fall.  Stout  and  jovial,  Baruum 
cracks  his  jokes  as  freely  as  of  yore,  aud  is  able 
to  conceive  aud  carry  out  groat  enterprises  as 
ever. 


WLLUAM  B.  ASTOlt. 

William  Bklsted  Astob,  who  died  November 
24,  1875,  was  tho  administrator,  as  his  father  had 
been  the  accumulator,  of  tho  most  valuable 
lauded  estate  in  this  counti-y.  He  was  born  in 
September,  1792,  at  14t)  Broadway,  New  York,  at 
once  his  father's  house  and  store,  and  his  father 
was  then  a  furrier,  jstruggling  along  from  month 
to  month  in  tho  early  precarious  years  of  a  pre- 
carious trade.  Matters  mended  in  tho  next  ten 
years,  and  the  father,  beginning  the  real  estate 
purchases  by  which  his  lortuue  was  achieved, 
left  the  low  two-story  brick  house  on  the  right 
side  of  Broadway,  and  going  to  tho  head  of  the 
street — Broadway  was  then  scarcely  known  as 
such  above  St.  Paul's,  with  its  church-yard  close 
to  tho  fields— and  bought  223  Broadway,  Kufus 
King's  house,  built  eight  years  before,  just  be- 
fore his  appointment  to  tho  English  mission,  and 
vacant  most  of  tho  time  since.  With  the  rest  of 
the  block  the  house  was  torn  down  thirty  years 
later  to  make  room  for  the  Astor  House.  It  was 
in  1802  that  John  Jacob  Astor  moved  to  his  new 
house  and  opened  his  store  on  Barclay  Street, 
the  yards  of  the  two  biiildings  adjoining.  Till 
his  son  was  thirty  he  lived  with  his  father,  mov- 
ing again  up-towu  with  him,  aud  in  1823  coming 
back  to  the  house  at  223,  which  he  occarjied  for 
ten  years  after. 

The  story  of  his  father's  accumulations,  year 
by  year,  for  nearly  half  a  century,  has  become  a 
familiar  story.  In  a  lesser  and.  secondary,  but 
in  a  most  important  sense,  it  is  the  story  of  tho 
late  Mr.  Astor's  life.  He  did  not  aid  lu  laying 
the  fouudation  of  the  family  estate,  but  he  was 
his  father's  efficient  coadjutor  in  its  increase. 
From  the  start  he  had  had  the  best  of  business 
training,  and  at  the  start  little  but  business  train- 
ing. As  a  mere  boy  he  had  busied  himself  about 
the  store;  as  an  older  lad  he  had  taken  the  place 
of  one  of  tho  clerks.  His  schooling  was  regular, 
but  it  was  interspersed  with  business,  and  there 
was  nothing  in  liis  early  life,  or  in  the  atmos- 
phere in  which  ho  lived,  to  turn  the  young  son 
of  a  wealthy  man  from  close,  unremitting  atten- 
tion to  business  upon  reaching  his  majority. 
Born  in  Germany,  his  father,  to  his  death,  had  a 
rooted  fondness  for  the  language,  the  manners 
and  the  habits  of  his  native  land,  and  his  boy's 
education,  to  which  he  had  given  but  small  care, 
was  supplemented  by  a  trip  to  Europe  and  a  uni- 
versity residence  in  Gottingen,  where  the  young 
student  distinguished  himself.  It  was  his  good 
fortune  to  come  under  the  careful  tutorship  of 
one  of  tho  most  accomplished  and  ablest  Ger- 
man scholars  aud  statesman  of  the  last  age — 
Von  Bunsen,  with  whom  he  formed  a  friendship 
which  lasted  through  the  latter's  life.  The  edu- 
cation ho  received  made  Mr.  Astor  thi-ough  life 
a  man  of  dignified  culture,  with  affiliations 
rather  than  a  positive  taste  for  literary  studies. 
To  none  of  them  did  ho  pay  engrossing  or  even 
partial  attention,  but  he  was  thoroughly  in  sym- 
pathy with  literary  men  and  affairs,  after  an  un- 
demonstrative fashion.  A  trip  through  Europe 
completed  his  education,  and  he  returned  to  en- 
ter his  father's  business. 

His  life,  from  the  time  ho  entered  the  firm  of 
John  Jacob  Astor  &  Son,  in  1817,  was  the  life  of  a 
buBiness  man,  of  business  habits  aud  business 
ambitions.  His  success  would  have  turned  the 
head  of  a  man  less  wedded  to  the  persistent  per- 
formance of  the  details  of  a  business  hfe;  but  it 
never  turned  his  head.     He  was  a  hard,  earnest, 


unassuming  worker  to  the  last,  as  ho  was  in 
those  early  years  when  his  father,  after  a  lucky 
purchase  of  tea  cargoes  in  tho  war,  was  adding 
to  investments  in  laud  and  traffic  in  furs,  tho 
(^hlna  trade.  For  six  years  the  young  man  was 
in  the  family  firm;  then,  in  1823,  tho  Anicricau 
Fur  (Jompany  was  organized,  and  shortly  after, 
when  his  father  retired,  leaving  a  large  amount 
of  his  canital  still  invested  in  the  company,  Mr. 
William  IJ.  Astor  became  its  president,  a  posilioji 
he  held  for  some  voars.  .\t  nearly  the  mutmo 
time  ho  married  and  began  to  live  in  tho  Iiom-d 
already  mentioned.  His  wife,  .Margaret  ,\riii- 
strong,  was  the  daughter  of  General  John  Arm- 
strong, a  resident  of  KhinebecK,  N.  V'.,  and  Sec- 
retary of  War  to  President  Madison's  adminis- 
tration through  the  war  of  1812.  General  .Arm- 
strong had  been,  besides,  one  of  New  York's 
early  senators,  and  succeeded  in  the  French 
niission  Chancellor  Jjivingstonc,  with  whoso  fami- 
ly ho  was  connected. 

At  thirty-five  Mr.  Astor  was  well  started  in  life, 
and  his  business  was  iii  a  fair  way  to  become  as 
flourishing  as  his  lather's,  from  whom  ho  re- 
ceived grants  ot  land,  as  oarnexts  of  the  com- 
ing inheritance.  The  Astor  House,  built  under 
his  father's  daily  and  personal  supervision,  as 
wore  its  alterations  forty  years  later  under  hm 
own  (so  little  had  tho  family  manners  altered 
while  all  around  had  changed),  becanio  his  prop- 
erty in  this  way,  deeded  to  him  for  $1.  In  much 
tho  same  manner  the  house  in  which,  up  to  a  few 
years  preceding  his  death,  ho  lived  (jn  Astor 
Place,  was  deeded  to  him,  and  other  not  less 
valuable  tracts  became  his  by  purchase,  some 
by  inheritance  through  his  wife,  to  whom  her 
father's  property  descended.  His  father's  en- 
terprises were  constantly  swelling  his  accumula- 
tions, and  his  own  were  sharing  in  tho  family 
prosperity  when  the  panic  of  1837  came.  Both 
father  and  son  were  fully  prepared,  and  added 
to  already  largo  fortunes  by  the  purchase  of 
property  and  securities  in  a  time  of  general  de- 
pression— an  operation  by  which  tho  father  had 
profited  in  the  war  of  1812,  buying  United  States 
bonds  at  80  cents  on  the  dollar,  and  selling  them 
at  $1.20  two  years  later;  and,  if  report  speaks 
true,  the  same  profitable  use  of  surplus  capital 
was  made  by  tho  sou  in  the  last  war. 

In  18-11,  it" is  said— not  on  the  best  authority- 
Mr.  Astor  aided  in  the  election  of  Mr.  Fernando 
Wood,  then  running  for  tho  first  time  for  a  seat 
in  Congrsss.  Mr.  Astor's  assistance  is  pro- 
nounced "not  improbable  "  by  one  of  the  few 
brought  into  intimate  personal  relations  with 
him.  If  the  report  be  true,  it  is  tho  solitary  in- 
stance in  which  Mr.  Astor  departed  from  a  fami- 
ly tradition,  which  enjoined  strict  abstinence 
from  active  politics,  and  a  quiet  acquiescence  in 
the  supremacy  of  the  ruling  power,  whatever  it 
might  be. 

When  prices  began  to  revive  in  the  early 
forties,  Mr.  Astor  had  retired  from  most  of  his 
active  business  relations — he  was  fifty,  it  must 
be  remembered— aud  devoted  himself  to  the  care 
of  the  property  he  had  acquired  for  himself,  and 
of  the  parental  estate,  which  his  father's  increas- 
ing infirmity  was  constantly  leaving  more  aud 
more  under  his  control.  Much  the  same  relations 
had  grown  up  between  the  two  as  existed  in  later 
years  between  Mr.  William  B.  Astor  and  his  son 
John  Jacob  Astor,  when  his  father's  long  life 
was  ended  March  28,  1848,  he  dying,  as  his  son 
died,  at  nine  o'clock  on  a  Wednesday  morning, 
after  a  brief  illness.  A  week  later  his  will  was 
published,  naming  Mr.  William  B.  Astor  as  the 
residuary  legatee  of  an  estate  believed  to  be 
worth  $20,000,000,  and  diminished  by  bequests 
some  $2,000,000. 

The  provisions  of  Mr.  John  Jacob  Astor's  will 
were  numerous  and  complex;  but  they  were 
executed  with  a  care  and  supplemented  with  a 
wisdom  which,  more  than  any  other  act  of  his 
long  life,  reflect  credit  on  his  character.  One  of 
his  sons  was  sent  to  tho  village  of  Waldorff, 
where  the  father  was  born,  to  superintend  the 
expenditure  of  the  bequests  made  fxjr  tho  benefit 
of  the  town.  The  singularly  small  annuity  which 
Mr.  Astor  conferred  on  Fitz  Greene  Halleck,  was 
raised  by  his  son  to  a  respectable  figure,  and  be 
took  occasion  m  a  number  of  other  instances  to 
add  to  the  small  bequests  which  his  father  had 
made.  Chief  among  the  bequests  was  the  pro- 
vision made  for  tho  Astor  Library.  The  institu- 
tion was  since  its  foundation  the  constant  care  of 
Mr.  Astor,  and  he  more  than  doubled  the  origi- 
nal endowment  of  $400,000.  To  the  lot  which 
was  first  given  he  added  another,  doubling  tho 
size  of  the  library  building,  and  ho  annually 
made  gilts  by  the  purchase  of  volumes  for  the 
library,  as  well  as  by  a  direct  increase  of  its  en- 
dowment. His  father's  will  made  him  a  member 
of  the  Library  Board  of  Trustees,  and  ho  re- 
mained up  to  tho  last  mcmth  of  his  life  constamt^ 


64 


THE  GREAT   EMPIRE  CITY. 


in  his  attendance  iipon  the  meetinga  of  the 
board.  It  was  a  signal  illustration  of  the  at- 
tention to  minor  and  insignificant  detail  which 
had  80  strong  a  hold  upon  father  and  son,  that 
in  the  management  of  the  library  he  endeavored 
to  inform  himself  of  its  defects  in  special  in- 
stances, and  took  upon  himself  the  purchase  of 
the  needed  volumes.  It  was  his  special  desire  to 
make  the  library  complete  in  its  set  of  classical 
works,  and  one  of  the  later  additions  he  made 
was  composed  of  some  six  hundred  volumes, 
bought  to  supply  deficiencies  in  this  particular. 
The  purchase  of  a  well-known  Egyptian  work, 
widely  noticed  of  late,  was  made  at  his  instance 
in  the  same  way,  and  at  the  time  he  removed 
from  his  house  in  Astor  Place  he  turned  over  a 
large  part  of  his  personal  library,  selected  by 
himself,  to  the  institution,  which  is  one  of  the 
most  useful,  as  it  is  among  the  largest  hbraries 
iu  the  United  States. 

With  his  father's  death  and  the  inheritance  of 
his  landed  estate  began,  in  other  and  more  im- 
portant respects,  the  best  and  the  Tnost  important 
Eeriod  of  his  life.  Two  or  three  bitter  lawsuits 
ad  marked  his  father's  life,  and  the  last  of 
them — the  somewhat  famous  case  of  Ogden  vs. 
Astor — survived  him.  It  grew  out  of  a  claim 
made  by  Samuel  B.  Ogden,  on  behalf  of  his 
brother,  one  of  Mr.  John  Jacob  Astor's  Chinese 
factors,  who  had  died  upon  his  way  home,  un- 
der circumstances  which  left  all  proof  of  the  ex- 
tent of  his  claims  against  his  emplover  iu  the 
hands  of  the  latter.  The  suit  had  dragged 
along  with  varying  fortunes  for  several  years, 
when  it  came  under  Mr.  William  B.  Astor's  con- 
trol, as  one  of  the  charges  against  the  estate  to 
which  he  succeeded.  It  was  compromised  by 
hire  for  $200,000,  it  is  said. 

For  the  future,  and  in  accordance  with  a  set- 
tled policy,  Mr.  William  B.  Astor  was  a  landlord, 
and  in  many  respects  nothing  but  a  landlord. 
The  bequests  of  his  uncle,  who  left  him  nearly 
$500,000,  had  done  something  to  make  him  a 
rich  man  in  this  respect;  for  his  uncle,  in  his 
later  and  more  successful  years  as  a  butcher, 
had  bought  heavily  of  real  "estate  on  the  Bow- 
ery, owning  at  one  time  all  of  a  large  tract  to 
the  left  of  that  street,  on  a  part  of  which  the 
Bowery  Theatre  now  stands.  The  acquisitions 
made  bv  Mr.  Astor  himself,  in  addition  to  this, 
would  nave  satisfied  most  men;  and  to  these, 
as.but  a  small  portion  of  his  ultimate  property, 
he  added  his  father's  close-bnilt  acres.  It  was 
said  of  his  father  that  he  knew  each  of  his 
tenants  by  sight.  It  was  true  of  the  son  that 
he  knew  the  condition  of  each  of  the  many  lots 
which  he  owned,  and  judged  for  himself  of  the 
rental,  which  for  eacli  year  was  determined  but 
once,  whether  the  building  was  taken  or  stood 
tcnantless.  The  expenses  of  lus  enormous  trans- 
actions ho  reduced  to  fignros  which  seem  mar- 
velous, and,  so  far  as  it  is  to  the  interest  of  the 
community  that  its  exchanges  be  economically 
effected,  this  economy  may  not  liave  been  the 
least  of  the  benefits  he  coiiferred  in  the  man- 
agement of  his  estate. 

It  would  be  dilficnlt  to  determine  the  extent, 
and  wholly  impossible  to  determine  the  value  of 
the  prope'rtj',  either  real  or  personal.  Mr.  As- 
tor paid  more  taxes  on  real  estate  than  any  other 
man  in  the  country.  He  paid  annually,  as  taxes 
on  his  real  property,  $500,000,  whicH  was  one- 
Boventieth  of  the  whole  amount  of  tax  collected 
annually  in  this  city  at  that  time.  The  assessed 
valuation  of  his  real  estate  was  understood  to  be 
some  $16,000,000,  with  a  probable  actual  value  of 
some  $25,000,000,  about  one-sixth  of  which  is 
locked  up  in  long  leases,  some  of  which  were  ex- 
piring almost  every  day.  His  propertv  was  all 
improved,  and  he  did  not  own  a  single  vacant 
lot. 

During  the  last  years  of  his  life  he  did  not  buy 
real  estate  so  largely,  but  was  principally  en- 
gaged in  building  or  exchanging.  He  was  also 
heavily  interested  in  all  the  railroads  running 
out  from  this  city  in  all  directions. 

A  large  part  o"f  Mr.  Astor's  property  lay  in  the 
most  visible  and  tangible  form  which  it  could  as- 
sume. But  to  a  degree  which  few  wealthy  men 
can  accomplish,  and  fewer  still  care  to  achieve, 
he  passed  his'  life  in  privacy.  His  full  figure, 
with  traces  about  it  ofhis  Gorman  lineage,  and 
reminiscences  to  older  men  of  his  father's  man- 
ner and  gait,  became  familiar  from  his  long 
habit  of  walking  to  the  little  place  of  business 
on  Prince  Street,  about  which  so  much  has  been 
read,  and  ot  whose  contents  so  little  is  known. 
Unostentatious  and  unassuming  by  nature,  he 
steadily  cultivated  these  traits  till  they  have  be- 
come the  traditions  of  the  familv,  and  are  likelv 
to  prolong  its  usefulness.  "  If  you  can  find," 
said  an  honored  and  frequent  associate  of  his, 
recently,  "  a  word  that  means  in  the  strongest 
way  '  not  purse-proud,'  you  can  apply  it  to  Mr. 


Astor.  He  was  that  all  the  time.  I  never  heard 
hiiu  allude  to  his  money  or  introduce  the  subject 
in  the  remotest  manner."  Upon  this  point  the 
testimony  of  his  friends  and  his  acquaintances  is 
uniform.  He  sank  to  a  degree  which  was  as  un- 
usual, and  in  as  good  taste  and  sense  as  it  was 
remarkable,  all  outer  signs  of  his  enormous 
wealth.  The  system  and  the  methods  of  half  a 
century  relieved  him  of  the  grievous  load  its 
mere  care  would  be  to  most.  His  office  hours 
were  regular,  but  they  were  short,  runnmg  from 
ten  to  two,  and  he  spent  them  almost  to  the  day 
of  his  death  standing  before  his  desk.  In  his 
office  hours  or  out  of  them,  he  had  always  leis- 
ure, and  he  had  lived  too  long  and  too  wisely 
ever  to  live  in  a  hurry.  Such  benefactions  as 
he  made  were  made  in  the  private  and  unos- 
tentatious manner  which  distinguished  all  his 
actions.  That  they  were  numerous  and  most 
hberal,  is  affirmed  by  those  who  knew  him  best. 

The  little  coterie  of  literateurs  and  of  authors, 
with  Washington  Irvine;  chief  among  the  latter, 
who  were  the  friends  of  his  father,  remained  his 
friends;  but  when  they  passed  away  he  did  not 
replace  them  by  others.  Mr.  Astor  had  m  many 
senses  out-lived  his  generation,  but  the  courteous 
manners  which  distinguished  it,  and  which  his 
own  culture  and  refinement  developed  and 
strengthened,  remained  his  to  the  last.  His 
lather  took  pains  in  his  will  to  declare  himself  a 
member  of  the  German  Reformed  Church,  though 
no  members  of  its  clergy  acted  at  his  funeral. 
His  son  was  for  years  a  member  of  the  church  in 
which  his  father  was  buried.  He  died  as  he  had 
lived,  a  consistent  member  of  the  communion  to 
which  he  belonged.  Ho  left  two  sons,  John 
Jacob  Astor  and  William  B.  Astor,  who  inherit 
the  bulk  of  his  fortune.  Of  three  daughters,  two 
are  living,  married— one  to  Franklin  H.  Delano, 
and  the  other  to  Mr.  William  Gary;  the  daughter 
of  the  third,  married  to  Mr.  Samuel  Ward,  is  the 
wife  of  J.  Winthrop  Chanler. 

In  his  will  the  testator  declared  he  had  formed 
the  resolution  to  add,  during  his  lifetime,  $250,- 
000  to  the  endowment  of  the  Astor  Library.  It 
appeared  by  a  codicil  executed  in  1869,  that  he 
had  given  to  the  institution  all  of  this  sum  save 
$49,000.  K  anv  portion  ol  this  balance  remained 
unpaid  at  his  death,  his  executors  were  to  pay  it 
to  the  trustees  of  the  library,  and  in  addition 
were  to  pay  them  $200,000,  to"  be  kept  invested 
and  held  as  a  permanent  fund,  of  which  the  in- 
come was  to  1)6  expended  in  the  purchase  of 
books  and  the  maintenance  of  the  library,  with 
liberty  to  the  trustees  to  expend  not  exceeding 
$25,000of  the  capital  in  the  purchase  of  books. 
This  gave  the  library  about  $12,000  a  year  more 
to  increase  it  and  keep  it  running, 


COL.   W.   A.    BOEBLXNO. 


W.  A.  Boebhng,  Chief  Engineer  of  the  Brook- 
Ivn  Bridge,  was  born  in  Saxonburg,  Butler 
County,  Pa.,  Mav  26,  1837.  He  graduated  from 
the  Uensselaer  Polytechnic  Institute,  at  Troy,  at 
the  age  of  twenty  years.  In  the  meantime"  his 
faculty  for  engineering  was  already  well  defined, 
and  as  his  father  had  charge  of  the  .Allegheny 
Suspension  Bridge,  young  Hoebling  went  upon 
that  work  as  an  assistant.  After  the  war,  in  which 
ho  served,  he  assisted  his  father  in  completing 
the  suspension  bridge  at  Cincinnati.  After  his 
father's  death  he  became  responsible  for  the  fu- 
ture work  on  the  East  Biver  Bridge,  and  his 
greatest  anxiety  was  in  regard  to  the  sinking  of 
the  caissons  for  the  big  towers.  Long  exposure 
to  abnormal  conditions  in  superintending  the 
construction  of  these  broke  his  health,  and  he 
lias  since  been  a  confirmed  invalid,  though  his 
brain  is  as  active  and  clear  as  ever,  and  ne  di- 
rected the  work  from  a  sick  chamber  with  pre- 
cision and  energy  lor  the  long  period  of  ten 
years,  with  an  interval  of  rest  at  Wiesbaden,  in 
Germany,  of  six  months.  In  this  long  absence 
from  the"  actual  scene  of  his  work,  through  his 
assistants  he  attended  to  every  detail  and  im- 
proved on  the  plans  of  his  father.  He  had  to 
solve  new  and  untried  problems  that  arose  in 
the  progress  of  the  building,  yet  always  proved 
equal  to  the  occasion.  The  methods  lised  to  get 
the  materials  out  of  the  caissons,  the  plan  for 
lighting  the  caissons  and  furnishing  them  with  a 
supply  shaft,  the  machinery  for  raising  the  stone 
on  the  towers  so  that  the  top  course  was  laid  at 
the  same  price  as  the  bottom  course,  were  all  of 
his  designs.  The  anchor  plates  were  made  much 
larger  tnan  those  designed  bv  his  father.  Steel 
cables  were  never  before  used,  and  all  previous 
cables  had  been  made  of  seven  strands.  The 
cables  for  this  bridge  were  so  large  that  they  had 
to  be  made  in  nineteen  strands.  The  unusual 
number  of  strands  made  necessary  the  construc- 
tion of  two  tiers  of  anchor  chains.  The  use  of  an 
elevated  loot  bridge  over  th«  tops  of  the  towers 


was  a  new  feature,  and  the  manufacture  and  pro 
paration  of  the  steel  for  the  cables  were  alter 
methods  he  elaborated.     He  did  not  attend  in 

Eerson  the  celebration  on  the  24th  of  May,  but 
e  had  a  view  of  the  procession  from  the  window 
of  his  sick  chamber. 

A  feature  of  pathetic  and  it  might  be  said  of 
tragic  interest  iu  the  history  of  the  bridge  wa?s 
the  fate  that,  in  the  discharge  of  their  duties,  be- 
fell the  two  engineers— the  father,  John  A.  Roeb- 
ling,  and  the  son,  Washington  A.  Roebling. 
The  former  was  standing  on  a  string-piece  of  the 
pier  next  to  the  Fulton  Ferry  slip,  fixing  a  loca- 
tion for  the  Brooklyn  tower,  when  a  ferryboat 
entering  the  slip  drove  the  fenders  against  the 
dock  so  as  to  crush  the  engineer's  foot.  He  be- 
lieved in  treatmg  the  injury  in  hydropathic  fash- 
ion, and  allowed  it  to  remain  under  a  faucet  of  cold 
running  water  until  it  was  over-chiUed,  and  the 
result  was  lockjaw,  of  which  Sir.  Boebhng  died 
in  fourteen  days.  His  son,  who  succeeded  him, 
faithful  to  the  work  before  him,  incurred  by 
overzeal  in  his  attention  to  duty,  disorders  in  the 
foul  air  of  the  caissons,  where  many  men  lost 
their  lives,  that  no  compensation  in  money  can 
counterbalance. 

■  ♦  ■ 

THE  BUSY  LIFE  OF  OUE  CITY  MEN. 


The  modem  New  Yorker  is  always  in  a  hurry. 
He  gets  up  in  the  morning  and  rings  an  electric 
bell  to  let  the  servant  know  that  breakfast  may 
be  put  upon  the  table;  the  old-fashioned  bell  is 
too  slow,  and  the  electric  affair  is  fast  taking 
its  place  in  all  new  houses,  its  greater  first  cost 
being  more  than  made  up  for  by  its  convenience 
and  the  fact  that,  once  in  place,  there  is  no  wear 
upon  the  wire,  as  is  the  case  with  all  old-fash- 
ioned bells.  It  is  fast  ruining  the  business  of 
bell-hanging,  as  a  locksmith  complained  re- 
cently. The  New  Yorker  swallows  his  breakfast  /^ 
in  forty  gulps  and  dashes  off  to  the  elevated  road 
station,  where  he  fumes  and  frets  if  he  has  to 
wait  more  than  thirty  seconds  for  a  train.  On 
the  way  down-town  ho  skims  through  the  paper 
in  a  tremendous  hurry,  the  present  system  of 
devoting  half  a  column  to  synopsis  of  the  news, 
entitled  "Five  Minutes  with  the  News  at  a 
Glance,"  etc.,  having  been  introduced  in  order 
to  save  time;  it  is  now  the  only  part  of  the  paper 
read  by  thousands  of  New  Y'orkers.  A  genuine, 
busy  New  Yorker  would  no  more  think  nowadays 
of  riding  dowu-town  in  a  horse-car  than  of  going 
to  Boston  in  a  stage-coach,  nor  of  reading  a 
newspaper  all  through  when  the  synopsis  gives 
him  the  gist  of  the  day's  news,  any  more  than  he 
would  dream  of  reading  editorial  articles.  I 
have  heard  a  dozen  men  say,  in  the  last  six 
mouths,  that  a  ride  in  the  horse-car  made  them 
so  nervous  that  they  preferred  walking.  The 
horse  car  motion  is  too  groat  a  contrast  to  the 
rapid  life  of  to-day,  when  everything  goes  by 
steam  and  electricity.  Once  in  his  office,  the 
busmess  man  seizes  his  bundle  of  telegrams- 
more  than  half  the  business  correspondence  be- 
ing now  done  by  telegraph— and  dictates  the 
answers  to  a  clerfc,  who  sends  them  off  by  tele- 
graph. 'Then  with  a  stock,  or  cotton,  or  produce 
exchange  ticker,  as  the  case  may  be,  on  one  side 
and  a  telephone  on  the  other,  the  modern  opera- 
tor does  ten  times  the  business  that  was  possible 
before  electricity  came  into  play.  About  noon  a 
luncheon  is  brought  in,  or  the  business  man  goes 
to  Deliuonico's  or  the  Astor  House,  and  perching 
himself  on  a  high  stool,  calls  for  a  chicken  patte, 
a  wine  cake  and  some  ice  cream,  winding  up 
with  some  kind  of  drink — not  water.  Then  back 
to  the  office,  more  telephoning,  telegraphing, 
and  at  last  home  on  the  elevated  road. 


Skill  in  the  N.  Y.  Post  Office. — Four  times 
a  year  the  sorters  who  distribute  letters  and 
papers  among  the  window  boxes  in  the  N.  Y. 
Post  Office  are  examined  as  to  their  swiftness  and 
accuracy.  There  are  6,000  boxes  used  by  over 
24,000  persons.  In  their  examinations  the  sorters 
are  obliged  to  do  without  the  usual  directions  on 
letters  and  wrappers.  The  names  of  the  users 
of  boxes  are  written  on  cards,  but  no  box  num- 
ber or  even  street  address  is  added.  There  are 
thirty-three  sorters,  and  one  or  two  are  examined 
at  a  time.  They  are  given  about  2,500  cards  indis- 
criminately selected,  and  they  stand  in  front  'of 
a  case  having  14  pigeon  holes,  or  one  hole  for 
cacli  box  window.  Every  sorter  must  know  in- 
stantlv  not  only  each  box  number,  but  the  win- 
dow in  which  that  box  is.  They  must  also  de- 
tect such  cards  as  do  not  represent  box-holders, 
but  are  intended  for  up-town  or  down-town  de- 
livery, and  these  must  be  sorted  into  two  heaps. 
There  are  sorters  who  can  undergo  this  test  with- 
out imlun-j;  more  than  twenty  or  thirty  mistakes. 


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